txbmvy  of  t:he  l;heoiocjicai  Seminary 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
ROBERT  ELLIOTT  SPEER 


JC585 


I 


i 


xjSfiW  OF  PB/Sfes 

APR  1  1959 


HENRY   THOMAS  BUCKLE, 

AUTHOR  OF 

"A  HISTORY  OF  CIVILIZATION  IN  ENGLAND." 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


ILLUSTRATED    WITH    A    PHOTOGRAPHIC  PORTRAIT. 


NEW  YORK : 
D.  APPLETON   AND  COMPANY, 

443  &  445  BROADWAY. 
1863. 


CONTENTS. 


Biographical  Sketch  of  Henry  Thomas  Buckle,  .  7 

Mill  on  Liberty,          .         .         .         .  .39 

The  Influence  of  Women  on    the    Progress  of 

Knowledge,  .          .         .         .         .  .165 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

OF 

HENRY    THOMAS  BUCKLE. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  HENRY 
THOMAS  BUCKLE. 


In  the  year  1485  there  appeared  in  Flor- 
ence a  young  man  who,  from  his  illustrious 
birth  and  his  natural  endowments,  would  have 
attracted  notice  in  any  city,  but  whom  that 
city  of  academies  and  home  of  the  learned  wel- 
comed with  instant  wonder  and  applause.  He 
was  the  most  various,  if  not  the  most  profound, 
scholar  of  his  time.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he 
ranked  among  the  foremost  canonists  of  Bo- 
logna. In  the  next  six  years  he  had  ranged 
through  all  the  circles  of  ancient  and  scholastic 
philosophy,  and  had  explored  the  recesses  of 
Jewish  Cabbalism.  His  Latin  compositions 
reflected  the  image  of  the  Augustan  age ;  his 
Italian  verses  delighted  at  once  the  Court  of 
the  Medici  and  the  people  in  the  streets.  In 
his  twenty-third  year  he  propounded  at  Rome 


8 


BIOGKAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


nine  hundred  theses  or  questions,  upon  every 
one  of  which  he  offered  to  dispute  with  any 
opponent.  In  these  questions  he  embraced 
every  department  of  knowledge,  as  knowledge 
then  was — metaphysics  and  ethics,  theology 
and  law,  magic  and  mathematics.  Of  this 
challenge  the  issue  is  imperfectly  recorded,  but 
it  at  least  alarmed  the  Church,  since  two  Popes 
were  constrained  to  protect  the  challenger  with 
their  sacerdotal  purple.  His  projects  were 
even  more  vast  than  his  performances.  He 
aimed  at  reconciling  with  one  another  all  the 
systems  of  philosophy,  from  the  days  of  the 
Athenian  Sophists  to  those  of  the  medieval 
doctors.  He  aspired  to  defend  Christianity 
against  every  class  of  heretics  and  infidels — 
against  the  Greek  Church  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  colleges  of  Cordova  and  Bagdad  on  the 
other.  He  meditated  an  allegorical  commen- 
tary on  the  Scriptures,  and  even  with  greater 
hardihood  a  scheme  that  by  the  force  of  mere 
syllogisms  should  compel  all  men  to  be  of  one 
mind  in  religion.  Of  labours  so  unintermitted, 
an  early  death  was  almost  the  inevitable 
result,  and  Giovanni  Pico  di  Mirandula — '  the 
phoenix  of  his  age,'  as  he  was  called  by  his  con- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


9 


temporaries — was  cut  off  by  a  fever  in  his 
thirty-first  year. 

With  this  universal  student  we  are  about  to 
contrast  a  modern  writer  who,  within  the.last 
few  years,  has  achieved  as  sudden  and  nearly  as 
extraordinary  a  reputation.  The  difference  of 
the  times  in  which  they  wrote  is  reflected  in  the 
different  character  of  their  works.  The  objects 
to  which  the  Italian  devoted  himself  comprised 
the  learning  and  science  of  his  time,  and 
with  that  time  they  have  for  the  most  part 
passed  away.  The  studies  of  the  English- 
man, embracing  as  wide  a  circle,  have  in 
them  the  seeds  of  greater  permanence,  inas- 
much as  they  relate  to  the  perpetual  interests 
and  not  to  the  transient  theories  and  opin- 
ions of  mankind.  In  these  respects  these 
accomplished  men  resembled  each  other. 
Both  of  them  had  conceived  the  idea  of  a 
vast,  perhaps  an  impracticable  work ;  and 
each  had  scarcely  passed  its  portal  when  he 
was  summoned  to  rest  from  his  labours. 

Henry  Thomas  Buckle  expired  at  Damas- 
cus on  the  last  day  of  May  in  the  present  year. 
That  they  have  been  born  and  have  died, 
is  record  enough  for  the  greater  portion  of 
1* 


10 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


mankind  ;  and  it  is  well  when  the  interval 
between  birth  and  death  affords  no  materials 
for  censure  or  compassion.  But,  in  the  pres- 
ent instance,  a  laborious  life  and  lofty  aims 
establish  a  claim  to  a  register  of  greater 
length.  There  has  passed  away  from  the 
world  one  of  the  heroes,  if  not  one  of  the 
martyrs,  of  learning. 

The  claim  is  the  more  remarkable  from  its 
resting  on  no  public  services — unless,  indeed, 
we  account  as  such  the  conception  and  par- 
tial execution  of  an  arduous  and  original  work 
— on  no  official  distinctions.  Mr.  Buckle 
was  a  man  who  trod  in  no  one  of  the  paths 
which  confer  early  honours,  and  receive  the 
sanction  of  the  world.  He  was  not,  like  Twed- 
dell  or  Kirke  "White,  '  the  young  Lycidas '  of 
a  university  upon  whose  bier  scholars  strewed 
Greek  and  Latin  elegies ;  nor,  like  Shelley, 
a  brilliant  meteor  of  the  poetical  firmament ; 
nor,  like  Henry  Martyn,  the  pioneer  of  a 
Church  in  £  perilous  lands  forlorn  ; '  nor,  like 
Francis  Horner,  a  statesman  struck  down  on 
the  threshold  of  a  political  career.  Mr. 
Buckle  was  no  one  of  these ;  and  yet  the 
announcement  of  his  death  has  cast  a  shadow 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


11 


upon  many  who  knew  him  only  as  an  inde- 
fatigable wooer  of  knowledge,  a  bold  explorer 
in  the  regions  of  historical  and  social  science. 

His  life,  so  far  as  regards  the  world,  was 
uneventful.  He  was  the  son  of  a  London 
merchant.  He  was  born  at  Lee,  in  Kent, 
November  24th,  1822.  He  was  placed  at  an 
early  age  at  Gordon-house,  Kentish  Town, 
where,  under  the  training  of  Dr.  J.  T.  Hollo- 
way,  he  rapidly  gained  distinction.  The  in- 
stinct for  self-education  was,  however,  strong, 
and  indeed  irresistible,  in  him.  Having 
gained  a  prize  for  mathematics,  and  being 
desired  by  his  parents  to  name  his  own  ad- 
ditional reward,  he  claimed  the  privilege  of 
being  removed  from  school,  and  receiving 
thenceforth  his  education  at  home.  When  he 
made  this  unusual  request,  he  was  in  his  four- 
teenth year.  "We  have  not  the  means  of  de- 
termining whether  his  parents  were  rash  or 
discreet  in  granting  it.  Mr.  Buckle,  however, 
was  either  dissatisfied  with  his  instructors,  or 
resolved  to  be  the  sole  architect  of  his  own 
mind.  His  tutors  were  dismissed ;  and  he, 
a  boy  of  fourteen  years,  set  forth  without  a 
pilot  upon  the  sea  of  knowledge.    In  about 


12 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


four  years  his  multifarious  studies  began  to 
converge  towards  one  focus — the  intellectual 
progress  and  civilization  of  mankind.  As 
soon  as  the  idea  of  such  a  work  presented 
itself  distinctly  to  him,  its  fulfilment  became 
the  object  of  his  life.  Twenty  years  of  labour, 
with  scarcely  an  interval  of  rest,  were  de- 
voted to  it.  On  this  method  of  study,  or  the 
merit  of  his  book,  we  shall  express  some  opin- 
ion presently  :  the  book  itself  must  always  be 
regarded  as  an  extraordinary  proof  of  a  mind 
at  once  sanguine  and  persevering.  As  he 
rejected  the  assistance  of  masters  in  language 
or  science,  so  he  declined  following  the  mer- 
cantile business  he  might  have  inherited  from 
his  father.  In  the  good  London  merchant, 
who  can  scarcely  be  supposed  to  have  watched 
without  some  misgivings  his  son's  independent 
course,  we  are  reminded  of  the  lenient  and 
trustful  father  of  John  Milton.  He,  too,  per- 
mitted his  studious  son,  after  a  university 
career  of  signal  promise,  to  devote  himself  to 
i  a  ceaseless  round  of  study  and  reading ; ' 
nor  did  he  require  him  to  enter  a  profession 
by  which  the  cost  of  his  education  might  be 
reimbursed.    Till  Milton  was  over  thirty-two 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


13 


years  of  age,  he  did  not  earn  a  single  penny 
for  himself,  and  afterwards  he  travelled  in 
France  and  Italy,  also  at  the  paternal  expense, 
for  a  year  and  three  months. 

From  such  care  for  the  morrow  as  would 
have  interrupted  his  daily  studies,  Mr.  Buckle 
was  happily  released  by  his  father's  liberality  ; 
and  by  his  death,  in  1840,  he  came  into  posses- 
sion of  a  handsome  competence,  of  wealth, 
indeed,  to  one  whose  sole  expenditure  was 
upon  books.  These  gradually  lined  the  walls 
of  his  upper  and  lower  chambers,  and  even 
his  out-buildings  were  turned  into  libraries. 
If  he  kept  a  journal  in  any  degree  commensurate 
with  his  commonplace-books,  we  may  one  day 
learn  how  often  he  withstood  the  temptation 
to  rush  into  print :  how  often  he  experienced 
the  feeling  inseparable  from  the  composition 
of  a  great  work,  that  he  was  farther  from  the 
beginning,  and  still  but  little  nearer  the  end.  It 
is  recorded  of  the  first  explorers  of  the  Amazon 
and  Orinoco,  that  after  voyaging  for  weeks 
amid  the  primeval  forests  and  far-stretching 
savannahs  that  embank  these  rivers,  each  time 
that  the  mighty  flood  spread  itself  into  some 
gigantic  basin  or  lagoon,  the  weary  and  won- 


11 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


dermg  adventurers  deemed  that  they  had  at 
last  reached  the  terminus  of  the  ocean ;  nor 
was  it  until  the  waters  a^ain  narrowed  their 
course,  and  ran  once  more  under  overshadow- 
ing trees,  and  with  an  accelerated  current, 
that  they  discovered  their  real  bourne  to  be 
still  remote.  So  it  is  with  adventurers  on  the 
great  tributaries  of  the  ocean  of  knowledge : 
the  fountain-heads  of  the  stream  lie  far  beyond 
the  eastern  horizon  ;  but  the  time  which  marks 
the  westering  sun  still  lies  far  beyond  the 
anxious  gaze  of  the  voyager.  Mr.  Buckle, 
'  taking  not  rest,  making  not  haste,'  in  the 
year  1S5T — that  is  to  say,  about  twenty  years 
after  the  idea  of  a  History  of  Human  Progress 
in  England  first  dawned  upon  him — committed 
the  result  of  his  steady  ten-hours-a-day  labour 
to  the  press,  and  followed  the  first  volume  with 
a  second,  published  in  1S61.  The  former  of 
these  volumes  was  at  first  received  with  in- 
difference, but  it  speedily  aroused  curiosity, 
and  next  no  small  degree  of  indignation  and 
alarm.  The  second  was  more  coolly  welcomed 
in  England,  and  deeply  resented  in  Scotland. 
'  An  author,'  says  Gibbon,  speaking  of  the 
reception  of  the  second  and  third  volumes  of 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


15 


the  Decline  and  Fall,  '  who  cannot  ascend 
will  always  appear  to  sink  ;  envy  was  now 
prepared  for  my  reception,  and  the  zeal  of  my 
religious,  was  fortified  by  the  motives  of  my 
political,  enemies.'  Mr.  Buckle  had  assailed 
more  than  one  order  of  mankind  :  the  political 
economist  and  the  lawyer  have,  perhaps,  long 
since  ceased  to  resent,  but  the  Scotch  are  not 
likely  to  forget,  nor  are  the  clergy  prone  to 
forgive,  such  an  antagonist. 

The  former  of  these  volumes  has  this  ex- 
pressive inscription  :  '  To  my  mother  I  dedi- 
cate this,  the  first  volume  of  my  first  work  : ' 
the  second  is  dedicated  to  her  '  memory.' 
With  many  readers  the  author  has  doubtless 
passed  for  a  hard  man,  dealing  with  men's 
actions  and  thoughts  as  with  so  many  links 
in  the  chain  of  causation,  with  the  aspects  of 
life  as  the  mere  products  or  phenomena  of 
Fate  or  Necessity.  In  these  inscriptions  the 
rock  is  smitten,  and  the  waters  of  love  well 
freely  forth.  In  this  excellent  mother,  were 
centered  the  writer's  affections :  to  her  the 
philosopher  became  as  a  little  child  ;  for  her 
the  soul  that  dwelt  apart,  reserved  the  treas- 
ures of  his  faith  and  love.    Her  death,  and, 


16 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


we  believe,  the  harbingers  of  that  death — long 
bodily  and  mental  decay  were  most  painful 
to  witness — prostrated  her  son,  already  en- 
feebled in  body  by  the  unceasing  strain  of  his 
mind.  His  body  he  from  earliest  youth  had 
treated  as  a  slave,  his  mind  as  a  sovereign  : 
for  the  one  no  sacrifice  was  too  great;  for  the 
other,  no  privations  were  thought  excessive. 
It  is  in  vain  to  inquire  whether  the  usual 
sports  of  boyhood,  and  the  manly  exercises 
that  prevail  at  our  universities,  might  not  have 
corroborated  his  physical,  without  any  sac- 
rifice of  his  mental,  powers.  Labour  and  sor- 
row had,  however,  done  their  work ;  and 
leisure  and  foreign  travel  came  too  late  to 
relieve  his  enfeebled  forces. 

In  this  life,  uneventful  as  it  was,  we  have 
a  very  rare  example  of  devotion  to  a  fixed 
object,  dating  from  a  period  at  which  literary 
plans  are  mostly  dreams  or 

Like  the  borealis  race, 

That  flit  ere  you  can  point  their  place. 

The  pages  which  he  gave  to  the  world,  as  well 
as  those  which  remained  to  be  written,  were 
planned  by  him  at  a  time  of  life  when  to 
most  men  study  is  irksome ;  and  even  to  the 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


17 


few  who  conquer  indolence,  is  either  a  means 
to  an  immediate  end,  or  a  stepping-stone  to 
wealth  or  worldly  position.  With  powers 
that  might  have  won  for  him  the  highest  uni- 
versity honours,  he  turned  aside  from  that 
near  goal,  and  set  before  him  one  which  he 
might  never  reach  at  all,  and  which  it  was 
not  destined  for  him  fully  to  embrace.  Nor 
does  it  lessen  the  merit  of  his  devotion  to 
study,  that  circumstances  relieved  him  from 
caring  too  much  for  the  morrow.  Competence, 
no  less  than  wealth,  is  often  a  hindrance  to 
continuous  labour.  He  whose  bread  is  pro- 
vided for  him  is  too  apt  to  say,  with  Rasselas, 
that  '  the  deficiencies  of  the  present  day  will 
be  supplied  by  the  morrow  ; '  that  he  is  not 
an  athlete  to  whom  every  moment  is  precious. 
But  none  of  these  Siren  voices  had  charms 
for  the  ear  of  Henry  Thomas  Buckle  :  and  he 
steered  by  the  fatal  island  where  so  much 
of  youth — '  Youth  on  the  prow  and  Pleasure 
at  the  helm' — has  wrecked  the  hopes  of  life. 
In  more  than  one  memorable  passage  Cicero 
has  put  on  record  his  own  early  diligence ; 
and  we  still  read  with  pleasure  the  honest 
pride  with  which  he  recounts  how  he  '  scorned 


13 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


delights,  and  lived  laborious  days' — how  he, 
a  novus  homo,  raised  himself  to  the  ivory  chair 
of  high-born  Fabii  and  Manlii.  Many  records, 
also,  have  we  of  men  to  whom  to  study  was 
to  be  happy — by  whom  a  day  spent  in  what 
Ben  Jonson  calls  '  the  cold  business  of  life ' — 
its  ceremonies,  holidays,  and  amusements — 
was  reckoned  a  day  lost.  Isaac  Casaubon's 
Ephemerides  are  full  of  lamentations  for  hours 
wasted  on  friends,  kinsfolk,  and  acquaintance, 
instead  of  being  turned  to  profit  on  Athenseus 
or  Polybius.  Adrien  Baillet  destroyed  by 
intemperance  in  study  the  frail  body  that 
nature  had  bestowed  on  him.  Robert  Southey 
set  a  noble  example  to  all  who  adopt  the  vo- 
cation of  the  scholar :  the  days  of  Immanuel 
Kant  certified  to  each  other  of  the  duties  and 
pleasures  of  the  philosopher ;  and  the  elder 
Pliny,  both  by  his  life  and  death,  merited  a 
name  among  the  martyrs  of  science.  But 
none  of  these  earnest  students  surpassed  Mr. 
Buckle  in  firmness  of  purpose  or  diligence  in 
business.  He  discerned,  or  at  least  he  im- 
agined, that  a  great  void  in  the  history  of 
human  progress  awaited  the  filling-up :  and 
however  opinions  may  vary  upon  his  fitness 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


19 


for  his  self-imposed  task,  there  can  be  no 
question  of  the  ardour  and  sincerity  he  brought 
to  its  performance. 

His  recluse  life  entailed  upon  his  writings 
some  serious  disadvantages.  The  ingenuous 
arts  are  not  more  effectual  in  softening  men's 
manners  than  intercourse  with  society.  If 
from  his  c  study '  he  did  not  '  rail  at  human 
kind,'  he  formed,  from  his  long  commerce  with 
books  alone,  harsh  and  one-sided  opinions  of 
classes,  that  earlier  and  more  free  intermixture 
with  them  would  have  softened  or  corrected. 
Of  the  clergy  he  saw  only  one,  and  that  not 
the  more  favourable  side.  He  regarded  them 
as  writers  or  preachers  alone,  and  not  as  active 
and  humanizing  elements  in  society.  He  is 
right  in  ascribing  to  dogmatic  theology,  dark, 
cruel,  ignorant  and  groundless  theories,  alike 
at  variance  with  a  divine  Author  and  dishon- 
ourable to  human  nature.  He  is  wrong  when 
he  represents  the  orator  in  the  pulpit,  or  the 
scholar  in  the  closet,  as  hard,  bigoted,  and 
severe  as  his  doctrines.  In  the  Confessions  of 
Augustine  we  have  the  outpourings  of  a  large 
and  liberal  heart :  in  his  writings  on  Fate, 
Free  Will,  and  Fore-knowledge,  he  appears 


20 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


only  as  the  durus  pater  infantium,  the  pre- 
cursor of  the  implacable  and  gloomy  Calvin. 
That  the  nature  of  Luther  was  more  harmo- 
niously toned  with  nature  and  man  than  the 
nature  of  Erasmus,  their  writings  do  not  per- 
mit us  to  doubt :  but  when  Luther  puts  forth 
on  the  dark  sea  of  theological  speculation,  he 
becomes,  like  his  Genevan  rival  and  contem- 
porary, stern,  acrid,  and  rancorous.  The  most 
earnest  and  tender  of  philanthropists,  a  Penn 
or  a  Howard,  was  not  more  deeply  imbued 
with  the  love  of  mankind,  than  were  Eiehard 
Hooker  and  Jeremy  Taylor  :  yet  it  would  not 
be  difficult  to  extract  from  their  books  pas- 
sages that,  taken  apart  from  the  context,  are 
equally  shocking  to  our  reason  and  affections. 
The  extracts  from  the  Scotch  divines  that  fill 
so  large  a  space  in  the  notes  of  Mr.  Buckle's 
second  volume,  are  atrocious  enough  to  prove 
that  Torquemada  and  St.  Dominic  were  not 
better  disposed  to  rack  and  burn  their  fellow 
men,  than  were  the  Gillespies,  the  Guthries, 
the  Halyburtons,  and  the  Eutherfords,  on  some 
of  whom  Milton  had  already  fixed  the  brand 
that  4  new  presbyter  is  but  old  priest  writ 
large.'     Yet,  perhaps,  many  of  these  fiery 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  21 

tongues  belonged  to  men  abounding  with  active 
charities  and  sympathies,  and  illustrating  by 
their  lives  the  doctrines  of  peace  and  good 
will.  Again,  in  his  strictures  on  national 
character,  Mr.  Buckle  employs  an  intellectual 
standard  only.  The  moral  compensations  for 
imperfect  knowledge  and  progress,  he  ignores 
or  overlooks.  His  eye,  directed  to  scientific 
progress  alone,  saw  not  many  fertile  spots  that 
relieve  even  the  barrenness  between  Dan  and 
Beersheba. 

On  various  occasions,  Mr.  Buckle  de- 
nounced the  effects  of  seclusion  and  separation 
from  human  interests  upon  the  monastic  orders 
and  the  priesthood  generally.  He  uncon- 
sciously partook  of  the  mischief  which  he  de- 
nounced. More  acquaintance  with  practical 
life  would  have  softened  his  asperities,  and 
saved  him  from  some  hasty  conclusions  and 
even  grave  errors.  One  effect,  indeed,  of  iso- 
lation which  appears  in  the  studious  and  soli- 
tary Benedictines,  did  not  manifest  itself  in 
him.  His  heart  was  not  closed  nor  narrowed 
to  the  great  interests  of  his  kind.  He  may 
have  weighed  classes  of  them  in  an  ill-adjusted 
balance,  but  to  the  progress  of  men  in  what- 


22 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


soever  delivers  the  human  race  from  bondage 
to  idols  of  the  market,  of  the  temple,  or  the 
tribe,  he  was  never  indifferent.  In  the  cause 
of  what  he  believed  to  be  civilization,  his  en- 
ergy was  unflagging,  his  sympathy  intense. 
Of  the  plan  and  execution  of  his  History  we 
are  not  in  a  condition  to  speak ;  we  have  por- 
tions only  of  the  Introduction  to  it.  Much 
that  in  the  Prolegomena  is  incomplete  or  in- 
accurate, crude  or  rash,  would  probably,  after 
maturer  experience  and  enlarged  insight,  have 
been  supplied  or  corrected  in  the  historical 
sequel.  The  following  remarks  accordingly 
have  reference  to  the  fragment  alone  of  his 
scheme. 

First,  the  subject  to  which  he  devoted  his 
life  is  vague.  The  term  Civilization  has  a 
specious  sound  and  a  noble  bearing ;  but  ob- 
jections to  it  instantly  present  themselves 
when  we  begin  to  ask  its  precise  import. 
Can  a  History  of  Civilization,  even  in  any  one 
country,  France  or  England,  be  comprised, 
like  the  Esprit  des  Lois  or  the  Politics  of 
Aristotle,  within  scientific  limits  ?  Does  the 
term  admit  of  definition  ?  Is  it,  in  fact,  more 
than  a  generality,  coming  under  the  legal  ban 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


23 


of  '  Totus  in  omnibus  melius  in  singulis''  f  One 
writer  on  such  a  theme  might  choose  to 
regard  civilization  as  the  greatest  happiness 
of  the  greatest  number — that  is,  sufficient  beef, 
pudding,  shelter,  and  wages  ;  another  might 
allege  that  man,  not  living  by  bread  alone, 
requires,  before  he  is  civilized,  a  church  es- 
tablishment in  prime  condition ;  a  third  will 
say  that  neither  the  labour-market  nor  the 
meat-market,  nor  deans  and  chapters,  and  lawn 
sleeves  alone  make  men  happy  and  keep  them 
so  ;  but  that  this  boon  must  be  expected  from 
free  trade,  universal  suffrage,  and  lightness 
of  taxation.  Jean  Jacque  sends  us  back  to 
the  time 

"When  wild  in  woods  the  noble  savage  ran ; 
and  William  Penn  and  John  Bright  look  for- 
ward to  the  day  when  none  shall  refuse  their 
cheek  to  the  smiter. 

Again,  conceding  for  the  moment,  that  the 
term  civilization  is  sufficiently  intelligible,  if 
not  very  precise,  Mr.  Buckle's  manner  of 
handling  the  subject  is  somewhat  capricious 
and  irregular.  In  history,  we  expect  that  the 
events  recorded  shall  follow  one  another  in 
the  order  of  time,  or  if  they  depart  from  it 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


and  assume  the  order  of  space,  that  there  shall 
be  good  reason  for  moving  on  parallel  in- 
stead of  direct  lines.  Gibbon  was  justified  in 
leaving  the  main  course  of  his  narrative  for 
such  episodes  as  his  chapters  on  the  Northern 
nations,  on  the  Monastic  orders,  or  the  rise 
and  progress  of  Mohammedanism ;  since  the 
assaults  of  barbarians,  the  withdrawing  from 
active  life  of  so  many  thousands  of  able- 
bodied  men,  and  the  birth  of  a  new  and 
aggressive  faith,  were  so  many  combined 
and  collateral  elements  of  the  decline  and  fall 
of  Rome.  Montesquieu,  again,  was  warranted 
in  passing  from  China  to  Pern  in  search  of 
analogies  with  the  laws  of  Europe,  or  of  ex- 
amples of  institutions  unknown  or  alien  to 
the  western  world.  But  the  civilization  of  a 
single  country  does  not  admit  of  so  devious  a 
course.  "We  require  to  have  placed  before 
us  in  their  known  succession  each  wave  of  the 
civilizing  stream,  to  have  marked  out  for  us 
the  effects  of  its  spring  and  neap  tides,  and 
the  several  deposits  which  remain  after  the 
flood  has  subsided.  Possibly — indeed  most 
probably — this  defect  in  the  Introduction 
would  have  been  corrected  in  the  work  to 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  25 

which  the  two  volumes  before  are  merely  the 
porch  ;  but  even  the  porch  is  irregularly  built. 
Its  foundation-stones  are  properly  the  universal 
questions  of  the  food,  climate,  and  physical 
circumstances  that  have  attracted  men  to 
certain  centres,  or  propelled  them  from  those 
centres,  or  affected  by  various  causes — abun- 
dance, privation,  the  possession  of  ease,  or  the 
necessity  for  toil — their  forms  of  government 
and  their  habits  of  life.  When,  however,  we 
expect  to  pass  from  the  incunabula  of  society 
to  its  earlier  phases,  we  are  suddenly  trans- 
ported to  the  history  or  the  preliminaries  of 
the  English  Revolution  of  16-10,  and  the 
French  Revolution  of  1789 — crises  in  history, 
indeed,  which  mark  beyond  any  others  a  new 
birth  in  each  of  the  respective  nations,  but 
which  belong  to  advanced  and  not  to  incepting 
civilization.  These  objections,  however,  apply 
to  the  first  volume  especially ;  the  second, 
being  devoted  to  two  opposite  phases  of 
religion,  although,  as  regards  a  History  of 
Civilization,  its  topics  are  somewhat  prema- 
ture, is  the  more  coherent  of  the  two,  both  in 
respect  of  its  premises  and  its  conclusions. 
The  second  volume  is,  in  fact,  little  more  than 
2 


26 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


an  episode  of  the  first ;  with  a  few  inconsid- 
erable changes,  it  might  have  stood  alone  as 
a  record  of  the  effects  of  perverted  religion 
in  Spain  or  Scotland.  The  discrepancies  and 
inconveniences  attendant  on  the  vagueness  of 
the  term  civilization  might,  in  our  opinion, 
have  been  avoided,  had  the  work  been  en- 
titled a  '  History  of  the  Aspects  of  Society  in 
England.'  There  would  then  have  been  no 
previous  question  about  the  import  of  a  title 
sufficiently  elastic  to  include  the  era  when 
Britons  painted  their  bodies  with  woad,  and 
the  era  when  they  assumed  trousers  and  pale- 
tots. The  presentation  of  such  aspects  might 
have  shifted  without  detriment  to  the  work 
or  inconvenience  to  the  readers  of  it  from 
direct  to  parallel  lines,  while  the  progress 
of  civilization  might  have  been  traced  or  im- 
plied with  equal,  if  not  superior  effect.  The 
great  bases  of  civilization — religion,  law, 
commerce,  arts  and  learning,  with  their  sev- 
eral products  and  phenomena,  and  their  mu- 
tual co-operation  and  counteraction — might 
have  been  exhibited  in  a  series  of  osculating 
or  concentric  circles,  while  the  laws  of  their 
generation  or  connexion  would  have  appro- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


27 


priately  formed,  in  Mr.  Buckle's  hands — and 
none  were  more  able  to  supply  it — a  superb 
peroration. 

From  what  appear  to  us  defects  in  the 
structure,  we  turn  with  pleasure  to  the  sterling 
merits  of  the  History  of  Civilization.  As  to  its 
language,  too  much  praise  can  hardly  be  award- 
ed to  it.  It  is  equal  to  the  subject,  precise 
enough  for  the  demands  of  science,  full,  flow- 
ing, and  flexible  enough  for  every  purpose  of 
eloquence.  Lucid,  when  the  business  of  the 
writer  is  to  state,  explain,  or  illustrate,  it  as- 
cends, when  anger  at  the  oppressor  or  sympathy 
with  the  oppressed  calls  upon  it,  to  notes  worthy 
of  Edmund  Burke  himself,  denouncing  the 
corruptions  of  England  or  the  wrongs  of  India. 
INTor  was  such  facility  or  such  strength  attained 
by  a  long  apprenticeship  in  writing.  Until  1857, 
when  the  first  of  these  volumes  was  published, 
we  believe  that  Mr.  Buckle  had  not  printed  a 
line ;  nor,  with  the  exception  of  a  lecture  de- 
livered at  the  Royal  Institution  in  March,  1858, 
and  an  essay  or  two  in  Eraser's  Magazine,  did  he 
permit  fugitive  literature  to  interfere  with  the 
great  task  he  had  in  hand  His  was  the  rare 
art  of  making  immense  reading  subservient  to 


28 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


general  instruction.  The  abundance  of  liis 
materials  neither  perplexed  nor  burdened  him  ; 
the  accumulated  thoughts  of  others  abated  no 
jot  from  the  freshness  of  his  own.  Xo  sources 
of  information  were  too  mean,  devious,  or 
recondite  for  his  searching  gaze.  His  com- 
mand of  ancient  and  modern  languages,  his 
bibliographical  knowledge,  were  not  less  re- 
markable than  Gibbon's  or  Southev's.  Like 
theirs,  his  commonplace-books  were  well- 
ordered  arsenals  which  yielded  without  stint 
or  confusion  the  weapons  and  munitions  re- 
quired by  him. 

Of  the  duties  and  the  province  of  the  his- 
torian, he  formed  a  conception  most  difficult, 
perhaps  impossible,  to  realize ;  but  it  was  no- 
ble in  itself,  and  honourable  to  him.  He  per- 
ceived that  history  in  its  best  forms  is  but  an 
imperfect  record  of  the  thoughts  and  deeds  of 
men.  The  writers  of  it,  even  those  whose 
works  are  possessions  for  ever,  select  some 
particular  crisis,  or  some  exceptional  phase  :  a 
great  war,  a  single  revolution,  a  long  series  of 
national  events,  or  periods  of  time  in  which 
long  hostile  or  distant  streams  of  action  are 
forcibly  or  spontaneously  diverted  into  a  com- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


29 


mon  channel.  Of  all  narratives,  none  equal  in 
their  comprehensive  character  those  of  Herod- 
otus and  Gibbon.  The  one  opens  with  that 
cycle  of  events  which  committed  together  for 
centuries  of  strife  Western  Asia  and  Eastern 
Europe.  The  other  begins  with  the  breaking 
up  of  an  empire  which  had  slowly  conquered 
and  long  held  together  with  links  of  iron  the 
civilized  world.  With  Cyrus  commences  that 
fusion  of  the  hill  tribes  with  the  dwellers  in 
the  plains  that  ended  in  the  construction  of 
the  Great  King's  empire,  6  a  mighty  maze ' 
of  satrapies,  each  one  in  its  dimensions  a 
kingdom,  '  but  not  without  a  plan.'  Then 
was  put  in  act  what  was  foreshadowed  in  the 
ten-years'  siege  of  Troy,  that  mighty  duel  of 
opposing  continents  which  wras  not  destined 
to  end  before  Rome  asserted  at  Actium  the 
predominance  of  Europe  over  Asia.  The  roll- 
ing together  and  condensing  of  races  by  Cyrus 
is  one  terminus  of  the  series,  the  great  Actian 
triumph  was  the  other.  With  Commodus,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  curtain  of  history  rises  on 
the  drama  of  dismemberment,  and  proceeds 
from  act  to  act,  until  an  unarmed  priest  fills  the 
throne  of  the  western  Cassars,  and  an  infidel 


30 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


rides  unchallenged  through  the  Hippodrome  of 
Constantinople,  or  profanes  the  great  church 
in  which  Basil  and  Chrysostom  preached. 
The  latter  is  Gibbon's  cycle,  the  former  that 
of  Herodotus  and  of  those  who  continued  his 
record  of  three  of  the  empires  of  prophetic  vision. 

But  in  these  and  in  other  narratives  cer- 
tain elements  are  wanting,  and  Mr.  Buckle, 
though  not  the  first  to  perceive  the  defect, 
was  among  the  first  who  attempted  to  supply 
it.  War  and  peace,  law  and  religion,  forms 
of  government,  art,  literature,  and  manners, 
are  merely  phenomena  of  national  life,  and 
presuppose  the  existence  of  laws  which  actuate 
and  of  conditions  which  shape  and  control 
them.  It  was  Mr.  Buckle's  object  to  collect 
and  place  these  phenomena  upon  a  scientific- 
basis,  to  discover  the  law  of  their  growth,  pro- 
gress, and  decline,  to  show  why  on  some  soils 
tliey  withered,  why  on  others  they  bore  fruit 
an  hundred-fold.  How  far  he  failed  or  how 
far  he  succeeded  in  his  attempt  to  construct  a 
science  of  history,  we  do  not  pretend  to  de- 
termine :  we  are  merely  pointing  to  the  high 
and  arduous  object  he  set  before  himself. 

Secondlv,  lie  sinned  the  sin  of  excessive 


LIOGKAPIIICAL  SKETCH. 


31 


generalization.  It  may  be  true  that  in  certain 
cycles  or  shorter  periods  of  time  the  sums  of 
human  acts  are  strangely  alike.  It  may  be 
true  also  that  statistics  afford  to  history  one 
of  its  most  sure  and  instructive  auxiliaries. 
But  it  is  no  less  certain  that  such  tabular 
records  are  not  only  in  their  infancy,  but  as 
regards  former  times,  either  do  not  exist,  or 
are  most  scanty  and  precarious  aids  to  truth. 
At  the  best,  also,  they  represent  a  few  only 
of  the  elements  of  social  life,  and  probably 
centuries  of  exact  observation  must  elapse 
before  they  can  be  permitted  to  supersede 
the  other  grounds,  moral,  intellectual,  and 
religious,  on  which  history  hitherto  has  been 
constructed.  In  his  anxiety,  if  not  indeed  his 
determination,  to  find  a  comprehensive  idea, 
Mr.  Buckle  often  strains,  if  he  does  not  mis- 
represent  facts.  He  is  too  prone  to  assume 
that  men  under  similar  circumstances  will  be 
similar  themselves,  and  leaves  scarcely  a  mar- 
gin for  the  disturbances  of  passion,  custom,  or 
accident.  Comets  are  tolerably  regular  in 
their  paths  ;  but  TVhartons  are  far  from  being 
plain  in  their  motives  or  actions ;  and  if 
fashion  be  very  potent,  and 


32 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


Lucullus,  when  frugality  could  charm, 
Had  roasted  turnips  on  his  Sabine  farm, 

jet  it  is  unsafe  to  compute  how  many  Lucul- 
luses  are  due  at  one  period,  or  whether  6  adust 
complexion  '  or  other  causes  invariably  compel 

Charles  to  the  convent,  Philip  to  the  field. 

We  might  proceed  to  specify  other  instan- 
ces in  which  the  wide  grasp  of  Mr.  Buckle's 
theory  defeats  its  own  purpose,  and  leaves  us 
disposed  rather  to  abide  by  imperfect  light 
than  to  follow  a  possible  meteor.  But  we 
must  abstain  from  comment  on  its  merits  and 
defects  alike,  and  hasten  to  the  conclusion. 
We  cannot,  however,  entirely  omit  mentioning 
Mr.  Buckle's  conversational  qualities.  He 
was  not  a  sayer  of  smart  or  brilliant  things  : 
indeed,  wit  and  humour  were  not  among  his 
gifts.  He  was  no  granter  of  propositions  ;  nor 
had  his  conversations  been  reported,  would 
his  periods  have  been  found  to  flow  into  the 
smooth  and  regular  moulds  of  the  late  Lord 
Macaulay's  social  discourse.  His  voice  was 
unmusical  and  his  manner  rather  defiant.  But 
one  could  not  be  five  minutes  in  a  room  with 
him  without  being  aware  that  a  talker  unusually 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


33 


informed  with  book  knowledge  was  present. 
From  the  news  of  the  morning  to  the  most 
recondite  and  curious  recesses  of  learning,  Mr. 
Buckle  ranged  freely  ;  the  topics  of  the  day 
furnishing  him  with  a  wide  round  of  illustra- 
tion and  analogy,  and  not  unfrequently  with 
hardy  speculations  on  the  future.  As,  how- 
ever, he  mixed  more  with  his  fellow  men,  the 
current  of  his  conversation  considerably  abated 
in  its  volume.  He  grew  more  willing  to  listen, 
less  disposed  to  controversy  or  to  monologue. 
The  softening  effect  of  increased  intercourse 
with  society,  as  it  appeared  in  his  conversation, 
so  would  very  probably  have  gradually  in- 
fluenced the  dogmatic  and  paradoxical  tone  of 
his  writings. 

That  the  History  of  Civilization  in  England 
should  have  excited  some  angry  surprises,  if  not 
a  deep  feeling  of  indignation,  in  many  quarters, 
it  was  natural  to  expect.  The  doctrines  of 
Auguste  Comte  are  not  palatable  on  this  side 
of  the  Channel ;  and  although  Mr.  Buckle  ac- 
cepted M.  Comte's  creed  with  reservation,  he 
is  indebted  to  it  for  some  of  his  theories.  He 
thus  ran  counter  to  an  order  of  men  not  in- 
disposed to  quarrel  among  themselves,  as  the 
2* 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


Court  of  Arches  can  at  this  moment  testify,  but 
which,  as  soon  as  its  conventional  opinions  are 
attacked,  forms  a  compact  phalanx  for  its 
corporate  defence.  '  The  Highlanders,'  says 
Baillie  Jarvie, '  may  give  each  other  an  ill 
name  and  even  a  slash  with  a  claymore,  but  in 
the  end  they  are  sure  to  join  against  all  cee- 
velised  persons  who  have  money  in  their  purses 
and  breeks  on  their  hinder  ends.'  Equally 
sure  were  Mr.  Buckle's  strictures  on  the  Kirk 
and  Predestination  to  draw  down  upon  him  the 
wrath  of  ]S"orth  Britain.  Hero-worshippers, 
again,  have  no  reason  to  be  pleased  with  his 
speculations,  since  he  resolves  the  course  of  his- 
tory into  cycles  and  a  system,  and  ascribes 
but  little  permanent  influence  to  individual 
soldiers,  statesmen,  or  saints.  Gibbon  nettled 
the  ecclesiastical  body  more  by  his  inuendoes 
than  by  his  direct  imputations.  Mr.  Buckle 
fights  against  it,  not  with  the  foil  of  irony,  but 
with  the  whole  armoury  of  distrust  and  de- 
fiance. Some  of  the  castigation  he  got,  he  mer- 
ited :  for  some  of  his  charges  were  ill  considered 
and  unfounded ;  but  these,  the  faults  of  seclu- 
sion and  inexperience,  do  not,  in  the  main,  affect 
his  assertion,  that  no  class  of  men  is  fit  to  be 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


35 


entrusted  with  irresponsible  power,  and  of  all 
classes,  the  clergy  least. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  place,  even  did 
our  limits  allow  of  it,  for  analysing  Mr.  Buckle's 
work.  That  has  been  done  by  other  hands  at 
a  more  convenient  season.  "We  have  sought, 
in  this  slight  sketch  of  him,  to  delineate  the 
author,  and  not  his  book.  That  the  latter  will 
remain  a  fragment  is  probable — neither  the 
man  nor  the  circumstances  which  favoured  or 
hindered  it  are  likely  soon  to  recur.  '  Dat 
Galenus  opes,  dat  Justinianus  honores : '  we 
are  not  likely  again  to  see  so  much  learning 
and  ability  employed  upon  themes  which  re- 
munerate the  student  with  neither  present  profit 
nor  honour.  Be  what  they  may  the  faults  of 
the  book,  the  merits  of  the  author  are  sterling. 
He  sought  knowledge  for  its  own  sake :  for 
knowledge  he  gave  up  his  youth,  his  talents, 
his  fortune,  and  possibly  his  life.  Truisms  did 
not  deter,. nor  shadows  intimidate  him;  what- 
ever, in  his  judgment,  had  hitherto  retarded,  or 
was  likely  to  retard  in  future,  the  progress  of 
men,  he  denounced  ;  whatever,  in  his  opinion, 
was  likely  to  accelerate  or  secure  it,  he  ad- 
vocated.   If  we  cannot  inscribe  it  on  the  roll 


36  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

of  historians  or  philosophers  of  the  highest 
order,  vet  the  name  of  Henry  Thomas  Buckle 
merits  a  high  place  on  the  list  of  earnest  seek- 
ers for  Truth. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY  * 


If  a  jury  of  the  greatest  European  thinkers 
were  to  be  impannelled,  and  were  directed  to 
declare  by  their  verdict  who,  among  our  living 
writers,  had  done  most  for  the  advance  of  knowl- 
edge, they  could  hardly  hesitate  in  pronouncing 
the  name  of  John  Stuart  Mill.  Nor  can  we 
doubt  that  posterity  would  ratify  their  decision. 
No  other  man  has  dealt  with  so  many  problems 
of  equal  importance,  and  yet  of  equal  complex- 
ity. The  questions  which  he  has  investigated, 
concern,  on  the  one  hand,  the  practical  interests 
of  every  member  of  society,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  subtlest  and  most  hidden  operations 
of  the  human  mind.  Although  he  touches  the 
surface,  he  also  penetrates  the  centre.  Between 

*  On  Liberty.  By  John  Stuart  Mill.  London :  John  W. 
Parker  and  Son,  West  Strand.  1859. 


40 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


those  extremes,  lie  innumerable  subjects  which 
he  has  explored,  always  with  great  ability,  often 
with  signal  success.  On  these  topics,  whether 
practical  or  speculative,  his  authority  is  con- 
stantly evoked  ;  and  his  conclusions  are  adopted 
by  many  who  are  unable  to  follow  the  argu- 
ments by  which  the  conclusions  are  justified. 
Other  men  we  have,  remarkable  for  their  depth 
of  thought ;  and  others  again  who  are  remark- 
able for  the  utility  of  their  suggestions.  Bat 
the  peculiarity  of  Mr.  Mill  is,  that  both  these 
qualities  are  more  effectively  combined  by  him 
than  by  any  one  else  of  the  present  day.  Hence 
it  is,  that  he  is  as  skilful  in  tracing  the  opera- 
tion of  general  causes,  as  in  foreseeing  the  re- 
sult of  particular  measures.  And  hence,  too,  his 
influence  is  far  greater  than  would  otherwise 
be  possible  ;  since  he  not  only  appeals  to  a 
wider  range  of  interests  than  any  living  writer 
can  do,  but  by  his  mastery  over  special  and 
practical  details,  he  is  able  to  show  that 
principles,  however  refined  they  appear,  and 
however  far  removed  from  ordinary  appre- 
hension, may  be  enforced,  without  so  danger- 
ous a  disturbance  of  social  arrangements,  and 
without  so  great  a  sacrifice  of  existing  insti- 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


41 


tutions,  as  might  at  first  sight  be  supposed. 
By  this  means  he  has  often  disarmed  hostility, 
and  lias  induced  practical  men  to  accept  con- 
clusions on  practical  grounds,  to  which  no 
force  of  scientific  argument,  and  no  amount  of 
scientific  proof  would  have  persuaded  them  to 
yield.  Securing  by  one  process  the  assent  of 
speculative  thinkers,  and  securing  by  another 
process  the  assent  of  working  politicians,  he 
operates  on  the  two  extremes  of  life,  and  ex- 
hibits the  singular  spectacle  of  one  of  the  most 
daring  and  original  philosophers  in  Europe, 
winning  the  applause  of  not  a  few  mere  legis- 
lators and  statesmen  who  are  indifferent  to 
his  higher  generalizations,  and  who,  confining 
themselves  to  their  own  craft,  are  incapable 
of  soaring  beyond  the  safe  and  limited  routine 
of  ordinary  experience. 

This  has  increased  his  influence  in  more 
ways  than  one.  For,  it  is  extremely  rare  to 
meet  with  a  man  who  excels  both  in  practice 
and  in  speculation  ;  and  it  is  by  no  means 
common  to  meet  with  one  who  desires  to  do 
so.  Between  these  two  forms  of  excellence, 
there  is  not  only  a  difference,  there  is  also  an 
opposition.    Practice  aims  at  what  is  imme- 


42 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


cliate ;  speculation  at  what  is  remote.  The 
first  investigates  small  and  special  causes ; 
the  other  investigates  large  and  general  causes. 
In  practical  life,  the  wisest  and  soundest  men 
avoid  speculation,  and  ensure  success  because 
by  limiting  their  range,  they  increase  the 
tenacity  with  which  they  grasp  events  ;  while 
in  speculative  life  the  course  is  exactly  the 
reverse,  since  in  that  department  the  greater 
the  range  the  greater  the  command,  and  the 
object  of  the  philosopher  is  to  have  as  large 
a  generalization  as  possible ;  in  other  words, 
to  rise  as  high  as  he  can  above  the  phenomena 
with  which  he  is  concerned.  The  truth  I 
apprehend  to  be  that  the  immediate  effect  of 
any  act  is  usually  determined  by  causes  peculiar 
to  that  act,  and  which,  as  it  were,  lie  within 
it ;  while  the  remote  effect  of  the  same  act  is 
governed  by  causes  lying  out  of  the  act ;  that 
is,  by  the  general  condition  of  the  surrounding 
circumstances.  Special  causes  produce  their 
effect  quickly ;  but  to  bring  general  causes 
into  play,  we  require  not  only  widlh  of  sur- 
face but  also  length  of  time.  If,  for  instance, 
a  man  living  under  a  cruel  despotism  were  to 
inflict  a  fatal  blow  upon  the  despot,  the  im- 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


43 


mediate  result — namely,  the  death  of  the 
tyrant — would  be  caused  solely  by  circum- 
stances peculiar  to  the  action,  such  as  the 
sharpness  of  the  weapon,  the  precision  of  the 
aim,  and  the  part  that  was  wounded.  But 
the  remote  result — that  is,  the  removal,  not 
of  the  despot  but  of  the  despotism — would  be 
governed  by  circumstances  external  to  the 
particular  act,  and  would  depend  upon  whether 
or  not  the  country  was  fit  for  liberty,  since  if 
the  country  were  unfit,  another  despot  would 
be  sure  to  arise,  and  another  despotism  be 
established.  To  a  philosophic  mind  the  actions 
of  an  individual  count  for  little  ;  to  a  practical 
mind  they  are  everything.  Whoever  is  ac- 
customed to  generalize,  smiles  within  himself 
when  he  hears  that  Luther  brought  about  the 
Reformation  ;  that  Bacon  overthrew  the  an- 
cient philosophy  ;  that  William  III.  saved  our 
liberties  ;  that  Romilly  humanized  our  penal 
code  ;  that  Clarkson  and  Wilberforce  destroyed 
slavery  ;  and  that  Grey  and  Brougham  gave 
us  Reform.  He  smiles  at  such  assertions, 
because  he  knows  full  well  that  such  men, 
useful  as  they  were,  are  only  to  be  regarded 
as  tools  by  which  that  work  was  done,  which 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


the  force  and  accumulation  of  preceding  cir- 
cumstances had  determined  should  be  clone. 
They  were  good  instruments  ;  sharp  and  ser- 
viceable instruments,  but  nothing  more.  Xot 
only  are  individuals,  in  the  great  average  of 
affairs,  inoperative  for  good ;  they  are  also, 
happily  for  mankind,  inoperative  for  evil, 
is  ero  and  Domitian  caused  enormous  mischief, 
but  every  trace  of  it  has  now  disappeared. 
The  occurrences  which  contemporaries  think 
to  be  of  the  greatest  importance,  and  which 
in  point  of  fact,  for  a  short  time  are  so,  in- 
variably turn  out  in  the  long  run  to  be  the 
least  important  of  all.  They  are  like  meteors 
which  dazzle  the  vulgar  by  their  brilliancy, 
and  then  pass  away,  leaving  no  mark  behind. 
"Well,  therefore,  and  in  the  highest  spirit  of 
philosophy,  did  Montesquieu  say  that  the 
Roman  Republic  was  overthrown,  not,  as  is 
commonly  supposed,  by  the  ambition  of  Caesar 
and  Pompey,  but  by  that  state  of  things 
which  made  the  success  of  their  ambition  pos- 
sible. And  so  indeed  it  was.  Events  which 
had  been  long  accumulating  and  had  come 
from  afar,  pressed  on  and  thickened  until  their 
united  force  was  irresistible,  and  the  Republic 


MILL  ON  XIBERTY. 


45 


grew  ripe  for  destruction.  It  decayed,  it  tot- 
tered, it  was  sapped  to  its  foundation ;  and 
then,  when  all  was  ready,  and  it  was  nod- 
ding to  its  fall,  Caesar  and  Pompey  stepped 
forward,  and  because  they  dealt  the  last  blow, 
we,  forsooth,  are  expected  to  believe  that  they 
produced  a  catastrophe  which  the  course  of 
affairs  had  made  inevitable  before  they  were 
born. 

The  great  majority  of  men  will,  however, 
always  cling  to  Caesar  and  Pompey ;  that  is 
to  say,  they  will  prefer  the  study  of  proximate 
causes  to  the  study  of  remote  ones.  This  is 
connected  vvith  another  and  more  fundamen- 
tal distinction,  by  virtue  of  which,  life  is  re- 
garded by  practical  minds  as  an  art,  by  spec- 
ulative minds  as  a  science.  And  we  find 
every  civilized  nation  divided  into  two  classes 
corresponding  with  these  two  divisions.  We 
find  one  class  investigating  affairs  with  a  view 
to  what  is  most  special ;  the  other  investi- 
gating them  with  a  view  to  what  is  most  gen- 
eral. This  antagonism  is  essential,  and  lies 
in  the  nature  of  things.  Indeed,  it  is  so  clearly 
marked,  that  except  in  minds  not  only  of  very 
great  power,  but  of  a  peculiar  kind  of  power, 


46 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


it  is  impossible  to  reconcile  the  two  methods  ; 
it  is  impossible  for  any  but  a  most  remarkable 
man  to  have  them  both.  Many  even  of  the 
greatest  thinkers  have  been  but  too  notorious 
for  an  ignorance  of  ordinary  affairs,  and  for 
an  inattention  to  practical  every-day  interests. 
"While  studying  the  science  of  life,  they  neglect 
the  art  of  living.  This  is  because  such  men, 
notwithstanding  their  genius,  are  essentially 
one-sided  and  narrow,  being,  unhappily  for 
themselves,  unable  or  unaccustomed  to  note 
the  operation  of  special  and  proximate  causes. 
Dealing  with  the  remote  and  the  universal, 
they  omit  the  immediate  and  the  contingent. 
They  sacrifice  the  actual  to  the  ideal.  To 
their  view,  all  phenomena  are  suggestive  of 
science,  that  is  of  what  may  be  known  ;  while 
to  the  opposite  view,  the  same  phenomena  are 
suggestive  of  art,  that  is  of  what  may  be  done. 
A  perfect  intellect  would  unite  both  views, 
and  assign  to  each  its  relative  importance ; 
but  such  a  feat  is  of  the  greatest  possible 
rarity.  It  may  in  fact  be  doubted  if  more  than 
one  instance  is  recorded  of  its  being  performed 
without  a  single  failure.  That  instance,  I 
need  hardly  say,  is  Shakspeare.     No  other 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


47 


mind  lias  thoroughly  interwoven  the  remote 
with  the  proximate,  the  general  with  the 
special,  the  abstract  with  the  concrete.  No 
other  mind  has  so  completely  incorporated 
the  speculations  of  the  highest  philosophy  with 
the  meanest  details  of  the  lowest  life.  Shak- 
speare  mastered  both  extremes,  and  covered 
all  the  intermediate  field.  He  knew  both 
man  and  men.  He  thought  as  deeply  as  Plato 
or  Kant.  He  observed  as  closely  as  Dickens 
or  Thackeray. 

Of  whom  else  can  this  be  said  ?  Other 
philosophers  have,  for  the  most  part,  over- 
looked the  surface  in  their  haste  to  reach  the 
summit.  Hence  the  anomaly  of  many  of  the 
most  profound  thinkers  having  been  ignorant 
of  what  it  was  shameful  for  them  not  to  know, 
and  having  been  unable  to  manage  with  suc- 
cess even  their  own  affairs.  The  sort  of  advice 
they  would  give  to  others  may  be  easily  im- 
agined. It  is  no'  exaggeration  to  say  that  if, 
in  any  age  of  the  world,  one  half  of  the  sug- 
gestions made  by  the  ablest  men  had  been 
adopted,  that  age  would  have  been  thrown  into 
the  rankest  confusion.  Plato  was  the  deepest 
thinker  of  antiquity ;   and  yet  the  proposals 


48 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


which  he  makes  in  his  Repiiblic,  and  in  his 
Treatise  on  Zaws,  are  so  absurd  that  they  can 
hardly  he  read  without  laughter.  Aristotle, 
little  inferior  to  Plato  in  depth,  and  much  his 
superior  in  comprehensiveness,  desired,  on 
purely  speculative  grounds,  that  no  one  should 
give  or  receive  interest  for  the  use  of  money  : 
an  idea,  which,  if  it  had  been  put  into  exe- 
cution, would  have  produced  the  most  mis- 
chievous results,  would  have  stopped  the  ac- 
cumulation of  wealth,  and  thereby  have  post- 
poned for  an  indefinite  period  the  civilization 
of  the  world.  In  modern  as  well  as  in  ancient 
times,  systems  of  philosophy  have  been  raised 
which  involve  assumptions,  and  seek  to  compel 
consequences,  incompatible  with  the  practical 
interests  of  society.  The  Germans  are  the 
most  profound  philosophers  in  Europe,  and  it 
is  precisely  in  their  country  that  this  tendency 
is  most  apparent.  Comte,  the  most  compre- 
hensive thinker  France  has  produced  since 
Descartes,  did  in  his  last  work  deliberately 
advocate,  and  wish  to  organize,  a  scheme  of 
polity  so  monstrously  and  obviously  impracti- 
cable, that  if  it  were  translated  into  English, 
the  plain  men  of  our  island  would  lift  their 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


49 


eyes  in  astonishment,  and  would  most  likely 
suggest  that  the  author  should  for  his  own  sake 
be  immediately  confined.  Not  that  wre  need 
pride  ourselves  too  much  on  these  matters. 
If  a  catalogue  were  to  be  drawn  up  of  the 
practical  suggestions  made  by  our  greatest 
thinkers,  it  would  be  impossible  to  conceive 
a  document  more  damaging  to  the  reputation 
of  the  speculative  classes.  Those  classes  are 
always  before  the  age  in  their  theories,  and 
behind  the  age  in  their  practice.  It  is  not, 
therefore,  strange  that  Frederick  the  Great, 
who  perhaps  had  a  more  intimate  and  personal 
knowledge  of  them  than  any  other  prince 
equally  powerful,  and  wTho  moreover  admired 
them,  courted  them,  and,  as  an  author,  to  a 
certain  slight  degree  belonged  to  them,  should 
have  recorded  his  opinion  of  their  practical 
incapacity  in  the  strongest  terms  he  could  find. 
6  If,'  he  is  reported  to  have  said,  '  if  I  wanted 
to  ruin  one  of  my  provinces,  I  would  make 
over  its  government  to  the  philosophers.' 

This  neglect  of  the  surface  of  things  is, 
moreover,  exhibited  in  the  peculiar  absence 
of  mind  for  which  many  philosophers  have 
been  remarkable.    Newton  was  so  oblivious 


50 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


of  what  was  actually  passing,  that  he  fre- 
quently overlooked  or  forgot  the  most  neces- 
sary transactions,  was  not  sure  whether  he 
had  dined,  and  would  leave  his  own  house 
half  naked,  appearing  in  that  state  in  the  streets, 
because  he  fancied  all  the  while  that  he  was 
fully  dressed.  Many  admire  this  as  the  sim- 
plicity of  genius.  I  see  nothing  in  it  but  an 
unhappy  and  calamitous  principle  of  the  con- 
struction of  the  human  mind,  which  prevents 
nearly  all  men  from  successfully  dealing  both 
with  the  remote  and  the  immediate.  They 
who  are  little  occupied  with  either,  may,  by 
virtue  of  the  smallness  of  their  ambition,  some- 
what succeed  in  both.  This  is  the  reward  of 
their  mediocrity,  and  they  may  well  be  sat- 
isfied with  it.  Dividing  such  energy  as  they 
possess,  they  unite  a  little  speculation  with  a 
little  business  ;  a  little  science  with  a  little 
art.  But  in  the  most  eminent  and  vigorous 
characters,  we  find,  with  extremely  rare  ex- 
ceptions, that  excellence  on  one  side  excludes 
excellence  on  the  other.  Here  the  perfection 
of  theory,  there  the  perfection  of  practice  ;  and 
between  the  two  a  gulf  which  few  indeed  can 
bridge.     Another  and  still  more  remarkable 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


51 


instance  of  this  unfortunate  peculiarity  of  our 
nature  is  supplied  by  the  career  of  Bacon,  who, 
though  he  boasted  that  he  made  philosophy 
practical  and  forced  her  to  dwell  among  men, 
was  himself  so  unpractical  that  he  could  not 
deal  with  events  as  they  successively  arose. 
Yet,  he  had  everything  in  his  favour.  To 
genius  of  the  highest  order  he  added  eloquence, 
wit,  and  industry.  He  had  good  connexions, 
influential  friends,  a  supple  address,  an  ob- 
sequious and  somewhat  fawning  disposition. 
He  had  seen  life  under  many  aspects,  he  had 
mixed  with  various  classes,  he  had  abundant 
experience,  and  still  he  was  unable  to  turn 
these  treasures  to  practical  account.  Putting 
him  aside  as  a  philosopher,  and  taking  him 
merely  as  a  man  of  action,  his  conduct  was  a 
series  of  blunders.  Whatever  he  most  desired, 
in  that  did  he  most  fail.  One  of  his  darling 
objects  was  the  attainment  of  popularity,  in 
the  pursuit  of  which  he,  on  two  memorable 
occasions,  grievously  offended  the  Court  from 
which  he  sought  promotion.  So  unskilful, 
however,  were  his  combinations,  that  in  the 
prosecution  of  Essex,  which  was  by  far  the 
most  unpopular  act  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  he 


52 


MJLL  OX  LIBERTY. 


played  a  part  not  only  conspicuous  and  dis- 
creditable, but  grossly  impolitic.  Essex,  who 
was  a  high-spirited  and  generous  man,  was  be- 
loved by  all  classes,  and  nothing  could  be  more 
certain  than  that  the  violence  Bacon  displayed 
against  him  would  recoil  on  its  author.  It 
was  also  well  known  that  Essex  was  the 
intimate  friend  of  Bacon,  had  exerted  himself 
in  every  way  for  him,  and  had  even  presented 
him  with  a  valuable  estate.  For  a  man  to 
prosecute  his  benefactor,  to  heap  invectives 
upon  him  at  his  trial,  and  having  hunted  him 
to  the  death,  publish  a  libel  insulting  his 
memory,  was  a  folly  as  well  as  an  outrage, 
and  is  one  of  many  proofs  that  in  practical 
matters  the  judgment  of  Bacon  was  unsound. 
Ingratitude  aggravated  by  crueltv  must,  if  it 
is  generally  known,  always  be  a  blunder  as 
well  as  a  crime,  because  it  wounds  the  deepest 
and  most  universal  feelings  of  our  common 
nature.  However  vicious  a  man  may  be, 
he  will  never  be  guilty  of  such  an  act  unless 
he  is  foolish  as  well  as  vicious.  But  the 
philosopher  could  not  foresee  those  immediate 
consequences  which  a  plain  man  would  have 
easily  discerned.    The  truth  is,  that  while  the 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


53 


speculations  of  Bacon  were  full  of- wisdom, 
his  acts  were  full  of  folly.  He  was  anxious  to 
build  up  a  fortune,  and  he  did  what  many 
persons  have  done  both  before  and  since  :  he 
availed  himself  of  his  judicial  position  to  take 
bribes  from  suitors  in  his  court.  But  here, 
again,  his  operations  were  so  clumsy,  that 
he  committed  the  enormous  oversight  of  ac- 
cepting bribes  from  men  against  whom  he 
afterwards  decided.  He,  therefore,  deliber- 
ately put  himself  in  the  power  of  those  whom 
he  deliberately  injured.  This  was  not  only 
because  he  was  greedy  after  wealth,  but  also 
because  he  was  injudiciously  greedy.  The 
error  was  in  the  head  as  much  as  in  the  heart. 
Besides  being  a  corrupt  judge,  he  was  like- 
wise a  bad  calculator.  The  consequence  was 
that  he  was  detected,  and  being  detected,  was 
ruined.  "When  his  fame  was  at  its  height, 
when  enjoyments  of  every  kind  were  thicken- 
ing and  clustering  round  him,  the  cup  of 
pleasure  was  dashed  from  his  lips  because  he 
quaffed  it  too  eagerly.  To  say  that  he  fell 
merely  because  he  was  unprincipled,  is  pre- 
posterous, for  many  men  are  unprincipled  all 
their  lives  and  never  fall  at  all.    Why  it  is  that 


54 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


bad  men  sometimes  flourish,  and  how  such 
apparent  injustice  is  remedied,  is  a  mysterious 
question  which  this  is  not  the  place  for  dis- 
cussing ;  but  the  fact  is  indubitable.  In 
practical  life  men  fail,  partly  because  they  aim 
at  unwise  objects,  but  chiefly  because  they  have 
not  acquired  the  art  of  adapting  their  means 
to  their  end.  This  was  the  case  with  Bacon. 
In  ordinary  matters  he  was  triumphed  over 
and  defeated  by  nearly  every  one  with  whom 
he  came  into  contact.  His  dependents  cheated 
him  with  impunity ;  and  notwithstanding  the 
large  sums  he  received,  he  was  constantly  in 
debt,  so  that  even  while  his  peculations  were 
going  on,  he  derived  little  benefit  from  them. 
Though,  as  a  judge,  he  stole  the  property  of 
others,  he  did  not  know  how  to  steal  so  as  to 
escape  detection,  and  he  did  not  know  how  to 
keep  what  he  had  stolen.  The  mighty  thinker 
was,  in  practice,  an  arrant  trifler.  He  always 
neglected  the  immediate  and  the  pressing. 
This  was  curiously  exemplified  in  the  last 
scene  of  his  life.  In  some  of  his  generalizations 
respecting  putrefaction,  it  occurred  to  him  that 
the  process  might  be  stojyped  by  snow.  He 
arrived  at  conclusions  like  a  cautious  and 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY.  55 

large-minded  philosopher  :  he  tried  them  with 
the  rashness  and  precipitancy  of  a  child.  With 
an  absence  of  common  sense  which  would  be 
incredible  if  it  were  not  well  attested,  he 
rushed  out  of  his  coach  on  a  very  cold  day, 
and  neglecting  every  precaution,  stood  shiver- 
ing in  the  air  while  he  stuffed  a  fowl  with 
snow,  risking  a  life  invaluable  to  mankind,  for 
the  sake  of  doing  what  any  serving  man  could 
have  done  just  as  well.  It  did  not  need  the 
intellect  of  a  Bacon  to  foresee  the  result. 
Before  he  had  finished  what  he  was  about, 
he  felt  suddenly  chilled :  he  became  so  ill  as 
to  be  unable  to  return  to  his  own  house, 
and  his  worn-out  frame  giving  way,  he  gradu- 
ally sank  and  died  a  week  after  his  first 
seizure. 

Such  events  are  very  sad,  but  they  are  also 
very  instructive.  Some,  I  know,  class  them 
under  the  head  of  martyrdom  for  science :  to 
me  they  seem  the  penalty  of  folly.  It  is  at  all 
events  certain  that  in  the  lives  of  great  thinkers 
they  are  painfully  abundant.  It  is  but  too 
true  that  many  men  of  the  highest  power  have, 
by  neglecting  the  study  of  proximate  causes, 
shortened  their  career,  diminished  their  useful- 


56 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


ness,  and,  bringing  themselves  to  a  premature 
old  age,  have  deprived  mankind  of  their 
services  just  at  the  time  when  their  experience 
was  most  advanced,  and  their  intellect  most 
matured.  Others,  again,  who  have  stopped 
short  of  this,  have  by  their  own  imprudence 
become  involved  in  embarrassments  of  every 
kind,  taking  no  heed  of  the  morrow,  wasting 
their  resources,  squandering  their  substance, 
and  incurring  debts  which  they  were  unable 
to  pay.  This  is  the  result  less  of  vice  than  of 
thoughtlessness.  Yice  is  often  cunning  and 
wary ;  but  thoughtlessness  is  always  profuse 
and  reckless.  And  so  marked  is  the  tendency, 
that  '  Genius  struggling  with  difficulties '  has 
grown  into  a  proverb.  Unhappily,  genius  has, 
in  an  immense  majority  of  cases,  created  its 
own  difficulties.  The  consequence  is,  that 
not  only  mere  men  of  the  world,  but  men  of 
sound,  useful  understandings,  do,  for  the  most 
part,  look  upon  genius  as  some  strange  and 
erratic  quality,  beautiful  indeed  to  see,  but 
dangerous  to  possess :  a  sparkling  fire  which 
consumes  while  it  lightens.  They  regard  it 
with  curiosity,  perhaps  even  with  interest ; 
but  they  shake  their  heads ;  they  regret  that 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


57 


men  who  are  so  clever  should  have  so  little 
sense ;  and,  pluming  themselves  on  their 
own  superior  sagacity,  they  complacently 
remind  each  other  that  great  wit  is  generally 
allied  to  madness.  Who  can  wonder  that 
this  should  he  ?  Look  at  what  has  occurred 
in  these  islands  alone,  during  so  short  a  period 
as  three  generations.  Look  at  the  lives  of 
Fielding,  Goldsmith,  Smollett,  Savage,  Shen- 
stone,  Budgell,  Charnock,  Churchill,  Chatter- 
ton,  Derrick,  Parnell,  Somerville,  Whitehead, 
Coomhe,  Day,  Gilbert  Stuart,  Ockley,  Oldys, 
Boyse,  Hasted,  Smart,  Thomson,  Grose,  Dawes, 
Barker,  liar  wood,  Porson,  Thirlby,  Baron, 
Barry,  Coleridge,  Fearne,  Walter  Scott,  Byron, 
Burns,  Moore,  and  Campbell.  Here  you  have 
men  of  every  sort  of  ability,  distinguished  by 
every  variety  of  imprudence.  What  does  it 
all  mean  ?  Why  is  it  that  they  who  might 
have  been  the  salt  of  the  earth,  and  whom  we 
should  have  been  proud  to  take  as  our  guides, 
are  now  pointed  at  by  every  blockhead  as 
proofs  of  the  inability  of  genius  to  grapple 
with  the  realities  of  life?  Why  is  it  that 
against  these,  and  their  fellows,  each  puny 
whipster  can  draw  his  sword,  and  dullards 
3* 


58 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


vent  their  naughty  spite?     That  little  men 
should  jeer  at  great  ones,  is  natural ;  that  they 
should  have  reason  to  jeer  at  them  is  shameful. 
Yet,  this  must  always  be  -the  case  as  long  as 
the  present  standard  of  action  exists.    As  long 
as   such   expressions   as  '  the  infirmities  of 
genius '  form  an  essential  part  of  our  language 
— as  long  as  we  are  constantly  reminded  that 
genius  is  naturally  simple,  guileless,  and  un- 
versed in  the  ways  of  the  world — as  long  as 
notions  of  patronizing  and  protecting  it  con- 
tinue— as  long  as  men  of  letters  are  regarded 
with  pitying  wonder,  as  strange  creatures  from 
whom  a  certain  amount  of  imprudence  must 
be  expected,  and  in  whom  it  may  be  tolerated 
— as  long  as  among  them  extravagance  is  called 
generosity,  and  economy  called  meanness — as 
long  as  these  things  happen,  so  long  will  the 
evils  that  correspond  to  them  endure,  and  so 
long  will  the  highest  class  of  minds  lose  much 
of  their  legitimate  influence.     In  the  same 
way,  while  it  is  believed  that  authors  must,  as 
a  body,  be  heedless  and  improvident,  it  will 
likewise  be  believed  that  for  them  there  must 
be  pensions  and  subscriptions  ;  that  to  them 
Government  and  society  should  be  bountiful ; 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


59 


and  that,  on  their  behalf,  institutions  should 
be  erected  to  provide  for  necessities  which  it 
was  their  own  business  to  have  foreseen,  but 
which  they,  engaged  in  the  arduous  employ- 
ment of  writing  books,  could  not  be  expected 
to  attend  to.  Their  minds  are  so  weak  and 
sickly,  so  unfit  for  the  rough  usages  of  life,  that 
they  must  be  guarded  against  the  conse- 
quences of  their  own  actions.  The  feebleness 
of  their  understandings  makes  such  precautions 
necessary.  There  must  be  hospitals  for  the 
intellect,  as  well  as  for  the  body ;  asylums 
where  these  poor,  timid  creatures  may  find 
refuge,  and  may  escape  from  calamities  which 
their  confiding  innocence  prevented  them  from 
anticipating.  These  are  the  miserable  delu- 
sions which  still  prevail.  These  are  the 
wretched  infatuations  by  which  the  strength 
and  majesty  of  the  literary  character  are  im- 
paired. In  England  there  is,  I  rejoice  to  say, 
a  more  manly  and  sturdy  feeling  on  these  sub- 
jects, than  in  any  other  part  of  Europe ;  but 
even  in  England  literary  men  do  not  sufficiently 
appreciate  the  true  dignity  of  their  profession  ; 
nor  do  they  sufficiently  understand  that  the 
foundation  of  all  real  grandeur  is  a  spirit  of 


60 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


proud  and  lofty  independence.  In  other 
countries,  the  state  of  opinion  is  most  de- 
grading. In  other  countries,  to  have  a  pension 
is  a  mark  of  honour,  and  to  beg  for  money  is 
a  proof  of  spirit.  Eminent  men  are  turned 
into  hirelings,  receive  eleemosynary  aid,  and 
raise  a  clamour  if  the  aid  is  not  forthcoming. 
They  snatch  at  every  advantage,  and  accept 
even  titles  and  decorations  from  the  first  foolish 
prince  who  is  willing  to  bestow  them.  They 
make  constant  demands  on  the  public  purse, 
and  then  they  wonder  that  the  public  respects 
them  so  little.  In  France,  in  particular,  we 
have  within  the  last  year  seen  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  writers  of  the  age,  who  had  realized 
immense  sums  by  his  works,  and  who  with  com- 
mon prudence  ought  to  have  amassed  a  large 
fortune,  coming  forward  as  a  mendicant, 
avowing  in  the  face  of  Europe  that  he  had 
squandered  what  he  had  earned,  and  soliciting, 
not  only  friends,  but  even  strangers,  to  make 
up  the  deficiency.  And  this  was  done  without 
a  blush,  without  any  sense  of  the  ignominy 
of  the  proceeding,  but  rather  with  a  parade 
of  glorying  in  it.  In  a  merchant,  or  a  trades- 
man, such  a  confession  of  recklessness  would 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


61 


have  been  considered  disgraceful ;  and  why 
are  men  of  genius  to.  have  a  lower  code  than 
merchants  or  tradesmen  ?  "Whence  comes  this 
confusion  of  the  first  principles  of  justice? 
By  what  train  of  reasoning,  or  rather,  by  what 
process  of  sophistry,  are  we  to  infer,  that  when 
men  of  industry  are  improvident  they  shall  be 
ruined,  but  that  when  men  of  letters  are  im- 
provident they  shall  be  rewarded  ?  How  long 
will  this  invidious  distinction  be  tolerated  ? 
How  long  will  such  scandals  last  %  How  long 
will  those  who  profess  to  be  the  teachers  of 
mankind  behave  like  children,  and  submit  to 
be  treated  as  the  only  class  who  are  deficient 
in  foresight,  in  circumspection,  in  economy, 
and  in  all  those  sober  and  practical  virtues 
which  form  the  character  of  a  good  and  use- 
ful citizen  ?  Nearly  every  one  who  cultivates 
literature  as  a  profession,  can  gain  by  it  an 
honest  livelihood  ;  and  if  he  cannot  gain  it, 
he  has  mistaken  his  trade,  and  should  seek 
another.  Let  it,  then,  be  clearly  understood 
that  what  such  men  earn  by  their  labour,  or 
save  by  their  abstinence,  or  acquire  by  lawful 
inheritance,  that  they  can  enjoy  without  loss 
of  dignity.    But  if  they  ask  for  more,  or  if 


62 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


they  accejDt  more,  they  become  the  recipients 
of  charity,  and  between  them  and  the  beggar 
who  walks  the  streets,  the  only  difference  is 
in  the  magnitude  of  the  sum  which  is  expected. 
To  break  stones  on  the  highway  is  far  more 
honourable  than  to  receive  such  alms.  Away, 
then,  with  your  pensions,  your  subscriptions, 
your  Literary  Institutions,  and  your  Literary 
Funds,  by  which  you  organize  mendicancy 
into  a  system,  and,  under  pretence  of  in- 
creasing public  liberality,  increase  the  amount 
of  public  imprudence. 

But  before  this  high  standard  can  be  reach- 
ed, much  remains  to  be  done.  As  yet,  and  in 
the  present  early  and  unformed  state  of  so- 
ciety, literary  men  are,  notwithstanding  a  few 
exceptions,  more  prone  to  improvidence  than 
the  members  of  any  other  profession ;  and 
being  also  more  deficient  in  practical  knowl- 
edge, it  too  often  happens  that  they  are  regarded 
as  clever  visionaries,  fit  to  amuse  the  world, 
but  unfit  to  guide  it.  The  causes  of  this  I 
have  examined  at  some  length,  both  because 
the  results  are  extremely  important,  and  be- 
cause little  attention  has  been  hitherto  paid  to 
their  operation.    If  I  were  not  afraid  of  being 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


63 


tedious  I  could  push  the  analysis  still  further, 
and  could  show  that  these  very  causes  are 
themselves  a  part  of  the  old  spirit  of  pro- 
tection, and  as  such  are  intimately  connected 
with  some  religious  and  political  prejudices 
which  obstruct  the  progress  of  society ;  and 
that  in  the  countries  where  such  prejudices  are 
most  powerful,  the  mischief  is  most  serious  and 
the  state  of  literature  most  unhealthy.  But  to 
prosecute  that  inquiry  would  be  to  write  a 
treatise  rather  than  an  essay ;  and  I  shall  be 
satisfied  if  I  have  cleared  the  ground  so  far  as 
I  have  gone,  and  have  succeeded  in  tracing 
the  relation  between  these  evils  and  the  gen- 
eral question  of  philosophic  Method.  The 
divergence  between  speculative  minds  and 
practical  minds,  and  the  different  ways  they 
have  of  contemplating  affairs,  are  no  doubt 
encouraged  by  the  prevalence  of  false  notions 
of  patronage  and  reward,  which,  when  they 
are  brought  to  bear  upon  any  class,  inevitably 
tend  to  make  that  class  unthrifty,  and  there- 
fore unpractical.  This  is  a  law  of  the  human 
mind  which  the  political  economists  have  best 
illustrated  in  their  own  department,  but  the 
operation  of  which  is  universal.    Serious,  how- 


6tfc 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


ever,  as  this  evil  is,  it  only  belongs  to  a  very 
imperfect  state  of  society,  and  after  a  time  it 
will  probably  disappear.  But  the  essential, 
and  so  far  as  I  can  understand,  the  permanent 
cause  of  divergence  is  a  difference  of  Method. 
In  the  creation  of  our  knowledge,  it  appears  to 
be  a  fundamental  necessity  that  the  specula- 
tive classes  should  search  for  what  is  distant, 
while  the  practical  classes  search  for  what  is 
adjacent.  I  do  not  see  how  it  is  possible  to 
get  rid  of  this  antithesis.  There  may  be  some 
way,  which  we  cannot  yet  discern,  of  recon- 
ciling the  two  extremes,  and  of  merging  the 
antagonistic  methods  into  one  which,  being 
higher  than  either,  shall  include  both.  At 
present,  however,  there  is  no  prospect  of  such 
a  result.  We  must,  therefore,  be  satisfied  if 
from  time  to  time,  and  at  long  intervals,  a  man 
rises  whose  mind  is  so  happily  constructed  as 
to  study  with  equal  success  the  surface  and 
the  summit ;  and  who  is  able  to  show,  by  his 
single  example,  that  views  drawn  from  the 
most  exalted  region  of  thought,  are  applicable 
to  the  common  transactions  of  daily  life. 

The  only  living  Englishman  who  has 
achieved  this  is  Mr.  Mill.    In  the  first  place, 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


65 


he  is  our  only  great  speculative  philosopher 
who  for  many  years  has  engaged  in  public  life. 
Since  Ricardo,  no  original  thinker  has  taken  an 
active  part  in  political  affairs.  Not  that  those 
affairs  have  on  that  account  been  worse  admin- 
istered ;  nor  that  we  have  cause  to  repine  at 
our  lot  in  comparison  with  other  nations.  On 
the  contrary,  no  country  has  been  better  gov- 
erned than  ours ;  and  at  the  present  moment, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  find  in  any  one 
European  nation  more  able,  zealous,  and  up- 
right public  men  than  England  possesses.  In 
such  extremely  rare  cases  as  those  of  Brough- 
am and  Macaulay,  there  are  also  united  to 
these  qualities  the  most  splendid  and  captivat- 
ing accomplishments,  and  the  far  higher  hon- 
our which  they  justly  enjoy  of  having  always 
been  the  eager  and  unflinching  advocates  of 
popular  liberty.  It  cannot,  however,  be  pre- 
tended that  even  these  eminent  men  have  added 
anything  to  our  ideas ;  still  less  can  such 
a  claim  be  made  on  behalf  of  their  inferiors 
in  the  political  world.  They  have  popularized 
the  ideas  and  enforced  them,  but  never  created 
them.  They  have  shown  great  skill  and  great 
courage  in  applying  the  conceptions  of  others ; 


66 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


but  the  fresh  conceptions,  the  higher  and  lar- 
ger generalizations,  have  not  been  their  work. 
They  can  attack  old  abuses ;  they  cannot  dis- 
cover new  principles.  This  incapacity  for 
dealing  with  the  highest  problems  has  been 
curiously  exemplified  during  the  last  two  years, 
when  a  great  number  of  the  most  active  and 
eminent  of  our  public  men,  as  well  as  several 
who  are  active  without  being  eminent,  have 
formed  an  Association  for  the  Promotion  of 
Social  Science.  Among  the  papers  published 
by  that  Association,  will  be  fourid  many 
curious  facts  and  many  useful  suggestions. 
But  Social  Science  there  is  none.  There  is  not 
even  a  perception  of  what  that  science  is.  Not 
one  speaker  or  writer  attempted  a  scientific 
investigation  of  society,  or  showed  that,  in  his 
opinion,  such  a  thing  ought  to  be  attempted. 
Where  science  begins,  the  Association  leaves 
off.  All  science  is  composed  either  of  physical 
laws,  or  of  mental  laws ;  and  as  the  actions  of 
men  are  determined  by  both,  the  only  way  of 
founding  Social  Science  is  to  investigate  each 
class  of  laws  by  itself,  and  then,  after  com- 
puting their  separate  results,  coordinate  the 
whole  into  a  siugle  study,  by  verifying  them. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


67 


This  is  the  only  process  by  which  highly 
complicated  phenomena  can  be  disentangled  ; 
but  the  Association  did  not  catch  a  glimpse 
of  it.  Indeed,  they  reversed  the  proper  order, 
and  proceeded  from  the  concrete  to  the  ab- 
stract, instead  of  from  the  abstract  to  the 
concrete.  The  reason  of  this  error  may  be 
easily  explained.  The  leading  members  of 
the  Association  being  mostly  politicians,  fol- 
lowed the  habits  of  their  profession  ;  that  is 
to  say,  they  noted  the  events  immediately 
surrounding  them,  and,  taking  a  contemporary 
view,  they  observed  the  actual  effects  with 
a  view  of  discovering  the  causes,  and  then 
remedying  the  evils.  This  was  their  plan, 
and  it  is  natural  to  men  whose  occupations 
lead  them  to  look  at  the  surface  of  affairs. 
But  to  any  mind  accustomed  to  rise  to  a  cer- 
tain height  above  that  surface,  and  thoroughly 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  scientific  method, 
it  is  obvious  that  this  way  of  investigating 
social  phenomena  must  be  futile.  Even  in 
the  limited  field  of  political  action,  its  results 
are  at  best  mere  empirical  uniformities ;  while 
in  the  immense  range  of  social  science  it  is 
altogether  worthless.     When   men   are  col- 


G8 


MILL  0^  LIBERTY. 


lected  together  in  society,  with  their  passions 
and  their  interests  touching  each  other  at 
every  point,  it  is  clear  that  nothing  can  hap- 
pen without  "being  produced  by  a  great  va- 
riety of  causes.  Of  these  causes,  some  will 
be  conflicting,  and  their  action  being  neu- 
tralized they  will  often  disappear  in  the  pro- 
duct ;  or,  at  all  events,  will  leave  traces  too 
faint  to  be  discerned.  If,  then,  a  cause  is 
counteracted,  how  can  you  ascertain  its  ex- 
istence by  studying  its  effect  ?  When  only 
one  cause  produces  an  effect,  you  may  infer 
the  cause  from  the  effect.  But  if  several 
causes  conspire  to  produce  one  effect,  this  is 
impossible.  The  most  persevering  study  of 
the  effect,  and  the  most  intimate  acquaintance 
with  it,  will  in  such  case  never  lead  to  a 
knowledge  of  the  causes ;  and  the  only  plan 
is  to  proceed  deductively  from  cause  to  effect, 
instead  of  inductively  from  effect  to  cause. 
Suppose  for  example,  a  ball  is  struck  on 
different  sides  by  two  persons  at  the  same 
time.  The  effect  will  be  that  the  ball,  after 
being  struck,  will  pass  from  one  spot  to 
another ;  but  that  effect  may  be  studied  for 
thousands  of  years  without  any  one  being 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


69 


able  to  ascertain  the  causes  of  the  direction 
the  ball  took  ;  and  even  if  he  is  told  that 
two  persons  have  contributed  to  produce  the 
result,  he  could  not  discover  how  much  each 
person  contributed.  But  if  the  observer, 
instead  of  studying  the  effect  to  obtain  the 
causes,  had  studied  the  causes  themselves, 
he  would  have  been  able,  without  going  fur- 
ther, to  predict' the  exact  resting-place  of  the 
ball.  In  other  words,  by  knowing  the  causes 
he  could  learn  the  effect,  but  by  knowing  the 
effect  he  could  not  learn  the  causes. 

Suppose,  again,  that  I  hear  a  musical  in- 
strument being  played.  The  effect  depends 
on  a  great  variety  of  causes,  among  which 
are  the  power  possessed  by  the  air  of  con- 
veying the  sound,  the  power  of  the  ear  to 
receive  its  vibrations,  and  the  power  of  the 
brain  to  feel  them.  These  are  vulgarly  called 
conditions,  but  they  are  all  causes  ;  inasmuch 
as  a  cause  can  only  be  defined  to  be  an 
invariable  and  unconditional  antecedent.  They 
are  just  as  much  causes  as  the  hand  of  the 
musician ;  and  the  question  arises,  could 
those  causes  have  been  discovered  merely  by 
studying  the  effect  the  music  produced  upon 


TO 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


me  ?  Most  assuredly  not.  Most  assuredly 
would  it  be  requisite  to  study  eacli  cause 
separately,  and  then,  by  compounding  the 
laws  of  their  action,  predict'  the  entire  effect. 
In  social  science,  the  plurality  of  causes  is  far 
more  marked  than  in  the  cases  I  have  men- 
tioned ;  and  therefore,  in  social  science,  the 
method  of  proceeding  from  effects  to  causes 
is  far  more  absurd.  And  what  aggravates  the 
absurdity  is,  that  the  difficulty  produced  by 
the  plurality  of  causes  is  heightened  by  another 
difficulty — namely,  the  conflict  of  causes.  To 
deal  with  such  enormous  complications  as 
politicians  usually  deal  with  them,  is  simply 
a  waste  of  time.  Every  science  has  some 
hypothesis  which  underlies  it,  and  which 
must,  be  taken  for  granted.  The  hypothesis 
on  which  social  science  rests,  is  that  the 
actions  of  men  are  a  compound  result  of 
the  laws  of  mind  and  the  laws  of  matter ; 
and  as  that  result  is  highly  complex,  we  shall 
never  understand  it  until  the  laws  themselves 
have  been  unravelled  by  a  previous  and 
separate  inquiry.  Even  if  we  could  experi- 
ment, it  would  be  different ;  because  by  ex- 
perimenting on  an  effect  we  can  artificially 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


71 


isolate  it,  and  guard  against  the  encroachment 
of  causes  which  we  do  not  wish  to  investigate. 
But  in  social  science  there  can  be  no  experi- 
ment. For,  in  the  first  place,  there  can  be 
no  previous  isolation  ;  since  every  interference 
lets  into  the  framework  of  society  a  host  of 
new  phenomena  which  invalidate  the  experi- 
ment before  the  experiment  is  concluded. 
And,  in  the  second  place,  that  which  is  called 
an  experiment,  such  as  the  adoption  of  a  fresh 
principle  in  legislation,  is  not  an  experiment 
in  the  scientific  sense  of  the  word  ;  because 
the  results  which  follow,  depend  far  more 
upon  the  general  state  of  the  surrounding 
society  than  upon  the  principle  itself.  The 
surrounding  state  of  society  is,  in  its  turn, 
governed  by  a  long  train  of  antecedents,  each 
linked  to  the  other,  and  forming,  in  their 
aggregate,  an  orderly  and  spontaneous  march, 
which  politicians'  are  unable  to  control,  and 
which  they  do  for  the  most  part  utterly 
ignore. 

This  absence  of  speculative  ability  among 
politicians,  is  the  natural  result  of  the  habits 
of  their  class ;  and  as  the  same  result  is 
.almost  invariably  found  among  practical  men, 


72 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


I  have  thought  the  illustration  just  adduced 
might  be  interesting,  in  so  far  as  it  confirms 
the  doctrine  of  an  essential  antagonism  of 
Method,  which,  though  like  all  speculative 
distinctions,  infringed  at  various  points,  does 
undoubtedly  exist,  and  appears  to  me  to  form 
the  basis  for  a  classification  of  society  more 
complete  than  any  yet  proposed.  Perhaps, 
too,  it  may  have  the  effect  of  guarding  against 
the  rash  and  confident  assertions  of  public 
men  on  matters  respecting  which  they  have 
no  means  of  forming  an  opinion,  because  their 
conclusions  are  vitiated  by  the  adoption  of 
an  illogical  method.  It  is,  accordingly,  a 
matter  of  notoriety  that  in  predicting  the 
results  of  large  and  general  innovations,  even 
the  most  sagacious  politicians  have  been  oftener 
wrong  than  right,  and  have  foreseen  evil  when 
nothing  but  good  has  come.  Against  this 
sort  of  error,  the  longest  and  most  extensive 
experience  affords  no  protection.  While  states- 
men confine  themselves  to  questions  of  detail, 
and  to  short  views  of  immediate  expediency, 
their  judgment  should  be  listened  to  with 
respect.  But  beyond  this,  they  are  rarely  to 
be  heeded.    It  constantly  and  indeed  usually 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY.  73 

happens,  that  statesmen  and  legislators  who 
pass  their  whole  life  in  public  affairs,  know 
nothing  of  their  own  age,  except  what  lies 
on  the  surface,  and  are  therefore  unable  to 
calculate,  even  approximative^,  remote  and 
general  consequences.  Abundant  evidence  of 
their  incapacity  on  these  points,  will  present 
itself  to  whoever  has  occasion  to  read  much 
of  State  Papers,  or  of  parliamentary  discus- 
sions in  different  ages,  or,  what  is  still  more 
decisive,  the  private  correspondence  of  eminent 
politicians.  These  reveal  but  too  clearly,  that 
they  who  are  supposed  to  govern  the  course 
of  affairs,  are  utterly  ignorant  of  the  direction 
affairs  are  really  taking.  What  is  before  them 
they  see ;  what  is  above  them  they  overlook. 
While,  however,  this  is  the  deficiency  of  po- 
litical practitioners,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
political  philosophers  are,  on  their  side,  equally 
at  fault  in  being  too.  prone  to  neglect  the 
operation  of  superficial  and  tangible  results. 
The  difference  between  the  two  classes  is 
analogous  to  that  which  exists  between  a  gar- 
dener and  a  botanist.  Both  deal  with  plants, 
but  each  considers  the  plant  from  an  opposite 
point  of  view.  The  gardener  looks  to  its  beauty 
4 


74 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


and  its  flavour.  These  are  qualities  which  lie 
on  the  surface  ;  and  to  these  the  scientific 
botanist  pays  no  heed.  He  studies  the  physi- 
ology ;  he  searches  for  the  law  ;  he  penetrates 
the  minute  structure,  and  rending  the  plant, 
sacrifices  the  individual  that  he  may  under- 
stand the  species.  The  gardener,  like  the 
statesman,  is  accustomed  to  consider  the  super- 
ficial and  the  immediate ;  the  botanist,  like 
the  philosopher,  inquires  into  the  hidden  and 
the  remote.  Which  pursuit  is  the  more  val- 
uable, is  not  now  the  question  ;  but  it  is  certain 
that  a  successful  combination  of  both  pursuits 
is  very  rare.  The  habits  of  mind,  the  turn 
of  thought,  all  the  associations,  are  diametri- 
cally opposed.  To  unite  them,  requires  a 
strength  of  resolution  and  a  largeness  of  in- 
tellect rarely  given  to  man  to  attain.  It 
usually  happens  that  they  who  seek  to  com- 
bine the  opposites,  fail  on  both  sides,  and 
become  at  once  shallow  philosophers  and 
unsafe  practitioners. 

It  must,  therefore,  be  deemed  a  remark- 
able fact,  that  a  man  who  is  beyond  dispute 
the  deepest  of  our  living  thinkers,  should, 
during  many  years,  not  only  have  held  a 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


responsible  post  in  a  very  difficult  department 
of  government,  but  should,  according  to  the 
testimony  of  those  best  able  to  judge,  have 
fulfilled  the  duties  of  that  post  with  con- 
spicuous and  unvarying  success.  This  has 
been  the  case  with  Mr.  Mill,  and  on  this  ac- 
count his  opinions  are  entitled  to  peculiar 
respect,  because  they  are  formed  by  one  who 
has  mastered  both  extremes  of  life.  Such  a 
duality  of  function  is  worthy  of  especial  at- 
tention, and  it  will  hardly  be  taken  amiss  if 
I  endeavour  to  show  how  it  has  displayed 
itself  in  the  writings  of  this  great  philosopher. 
To  those  who  delight  in  contemplating  the 
development  of  an  intellect  of  the  rarest  kind, 
it  will  not  appear  unseemly  that,  before  ex- 
amining his  latest  work,  I  should  compare 
those  other  productions  by  which  he  has  been 
hitherto  known  and  which  have  won  for  him 
a  vast  and  permanent  fame. 

Those  works  are  his  Principles  of  Political 
Economy,  and  his  System  of  Logic.  Each  of 
these  elaborate  productions  is  remarkable  for 
one  of  the  two  greatest  qualities  of  the  author  ; 
the  Political  Economy  being  mostly  valuable 
for  the  practical  application  of  truths  pre- 


76 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


viously  established  ;  while  the  Logic  contains 
an  analysis  of  the  process  of  reasoning,  more 
subtle  and  exhaustive  than  any  which  has 
appeared  since  Aristotle.*  Of  the  Political 
Economy  it  is  enough  to  say  that  none  of  the 
principles  in  it  are  new.  Since  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Wealth  of  Nations^  the  science  had 

*  I  do  not  except  even  Kant ;  because  that  extraordinary 
thinker,  who  in  some  directions  has  perhaps  penetrated  deeper 
than  any  philosopher  either  before  or  since,  did,  in  his  views 
respecting  logic,  so  anticipate  the  limits  of  all  future  discovery, 
as  to  take  upon  himself  to  affirm  that  the  notion  of  inductively 
obtaining  a  standard  of  objective  truth,  was  not  only  impracti- 
cable at  present,  but  involved  an  essential  contradiction  which 
would  always  be  irreconcileable.  Whoever  upon  any  subject 
thus  sets  up  a  fixed  and  prospective  limit,  gives  the  surest  proof 
that  he  has  not  investigated  that  subject  even  as  far  as  the  ex- 
isting resources  allow ;  for  he  proves  that  he  has  not  reached 
that  point  where  certainty  ends,  and  where  the  dim  outline, 
gradually  growing  fainter,  but  always  indefinite,  teaches  us  that 
there  is  something  beyond,  and  that  we  have  no  right  to  pledge 
ourselves  respecting  that  undetermined  tract.  On  the  other 
hand,  those  who  stop  before  they  have  reached  this  shadowy 
outline,  see  everything  clearly  because  they  have  not  advanced 
to  the  place  where  darkness  begins.  If  I  were  to  venture  to 
criticise  such  a  man  as  Kant,  I  should  say,  after  a  very  careful 
study  of  his  works,  and  with  the  greatest  admiration  of  them, 
that  the  depth  of  his  mind  considerably  exceeded  its  compre- 
hensiveness. 


MILL  02s"  LIBERTY. 


77 


been  entirely  remodelled,  and  it  was  the  ob- 
ject of  Mr.  Mill  not  to  extend  its  boundaries, 
but  to  turn  to  practical  account  what  had  been 
achieved  by  the  two  generations  of  thinkers 
who  succeeded  Adam  Smith.  The  brilliant 
discovery  of  the*  true  theory  of  rent,  which, 
though  not  made  by  Kicardo,  was  placed  by 
him  on  a  solid  foundation,  had  given  an  en- 
tirely new  aspect  to  economical  science ;  as 
also  had  the  great  law,  which  he  first  pointed 
out,  of  the  distributions  of  the  precious  metals, 
by  means  of  the  exchanges,  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  the  traffic  which  would  occur  if  there 
were  no  such  metals,  and  if  all  trade  were 
conducted  by  barter.  The  great  work  of 
Malthus  on  Population,  and  the  discussions 
to  which  it  led,  had  ascertained  the  nature 
and  limits  of  ,the  connexion  which  exists 
between  the  increase  of  labour  and  the  rate 
of  wages,  and  had  thus  cleared  away  many  of 
the  difficulties  which  beset  the  path  of  Adam 
Smith.  While  this  threw  new  light  on  the 
causes  of  the  distribution  of  wealth,  Eae  had 
analyzed  those  other  causes  which  govern  its 
accumulation,  and  had  shown  in  what  manner 
capital  increases  with  different  speed,  in  differ- 


78 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


ent  countries,  and  at  different  times.  When 
we,  moreover,  add  that  Bentham  had  demon- 
strated the  advantages  and  the  necessity  of 
usury  as  part  of  the  social  scheme ;  that  Bab- 
bage  had  with  signal  ability  investigated  the 
principles  which  govern  the  economy  of  labour, 
and  the  varying  degrees  of  its  productiveness  ; 
and  that  the  abstract  but  very  important  step 
had  been  taken  by  Wakefield  of  proving  that 
the  supposed  ultimate  division  of  labour  is  in 
reality  but  a  part  of  the  still  higher  principle 
of  the  cooperation  of  labour ;  when  we  put 
these  things  together,  we  shall  see  that  Mr. 
Mill  found  everything  ready  to  his  hand,  and 
had  only  to  combine  and  apply  the  generali- 
zations of  those  great  speculative  thinkers  who 
immediately  preceded  him. 

The  success  with  which  he  has  executed 
this  task  is  marvellous.  His  treatise  on  Politi- 
cal Economy  is  a  manual  for  statesmen  even 
more  than  for  speculators ;  since,  though  it 
contains  no  additions  to  scientific  truths,  it  is 
full  of  practical  applications.  In  it,  the  most 
recondite  principles  are  illustrated,  and  brought 
to  the  surface,  with  a  force  which  has  con- 
vinced many  persons  whose  minds  are  unable 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


79 


to  follow  long  trains  of  -abstract  reasoning, 
and  who  rejected  the  conclusions  of  Ricardo, 
because  that  illustrious  thinker,  master  though 
he  was  of  the  finest  dialectic,  lacked  the  ca- 
pacity of  clothing  his  arguments  in  circum- 
stances, and  could  not  adapt  them  to  the 
ordinary  events  of  political  life.  This  defi- 
ciency is  supplied  by  Mr.  Mill,  who  treats 
political  economy  as  an  art  even  more  than  as 
a  science.*  Hence  his  book  is  full  of  sugges- 
tions on  many  of  the  most  important  matters 
which  can  be  submitted  to  the  legislature  of  a 
free  people.  The  laws  of  bequest  and  of  in- 
heritance ;  the  laws  of  primogeniture ;  the 
laws  of  partnership  and  of  limited  liability  ; 
the  laws  of  insolvency  and  of  bankruptcy ;  the 
best  method  of  establishing  colonies ;  the 
advantages  and  disadvantages  of  the  income- 
tax  ;  the  expediency  of  meeting  extraordinary 
expenses  by  taxation  drawn  from  income  or 

*  Thereby  becoming  necessarily  somewhat  empirical ;  for 
directly  the  political  economist  offers  practical  suggestions,  dis- 
turbing causes  are  let  in,  and  trouble  the  pure  science  which 
depends  far  more  upon  reasoning  than  upon  observation.  No 
writer  I  have  met  with,  has  put  this  in  a  short  compass  with  so 
much  clearness  as  Mr.  Senior.  See  the  introduction  to  his 
Political  Economy,  4th  edit.  1858,  pp.  2 — 5. 


80 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


by  an  increase  of  the  national  debt :  these  are 
among  the  subjects  mooted  by  Mr.  Mill,  and 
on  which  he  has  made  proposals,  the  majority 
of  which  are  gradually  working  their  way 
into  the  public  mind.  Upon  these  topics,  his  in- 
fluence is  felt  by  many  who  do  not  know  from 
whence  the  influence  proceeds.  And  no  one  can 
have  attended  to  the  progress  of  political  opin- 
ions during  the  last  ten  years,  without  noticing 
how,  in  the  formation  of  practical  judgments, 
his  power  is  operating  on  politicians  who  are 
utterly  heedless  of  his  higher  generalizations, 
and  wTho  would,  indeed,  in  the  largest  depart- 
ments of  thought,  be  well  content  to  sleep  on 
in  their  dull  and  ancient  routine,  but  that 
from  time  to  time,  and  in  their  own  despite, 
their  slumbers  are  disturbed  by  a  noise  from 
afar,  and  they  are  forced  to  participate  in  the 
result  of  that  prodigious  movement  which  is 
now  gathering  on  every  side,  unsettling  the 
stability  of  affairs,  and  sapping  the  founda- 
tion of  our  beliefs. 

In  such  intellectual  movements,  which  lie 
at  the  root  of  social  actions,  the  practical 
classes  can  take  no  original  part,  though,  as 
all  history  decisively  proves,  they  are  event- 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


81 


ually  obliged  to  abide  by  the  consequences 
of  them.    But  it  is  the  peculiar  prerogative  of 
certain  minds  to  be  able  to  interpret  as  well 
as  to  originate.    To  such  men  a  double  duty 
is   entrusted.     They   enjoy  the  inestimable 
privilege  of  communicating  directly  with  prac- 
titioners as  well  as  with  speculators,  and  they 
can  both  discover  the  abstract  and  manipulate 
the  concrete.     The  concrete   and  practical 
tendency  of  the  present  age  is  clearly  exhibited 
in  Mr.  Mill's  work  on  Political  Economy ; 
while  in  his  work  on  Logic  we  may  see  as 
clearly  the  abstract  and  theoretical  tendency 
of  the  same  period.    The  former  work  is  chiefly 
valuable  in  relation  to  the  functions  of  govern- 
ment ;  the  latter  in  relation  to  the  functions  of 
thought.    In  the  one,  the  art  of  doing  ;  in  the 
other,  the  science  of  reasoning.    The  revolution 
which  he  has  effected  in  this  great  department 
of  speculative  knowledge,  will  be  best  under- 
stood by  comparing  what  the  science  of  logic 
was  when  he  began  to  write,  with  what  it  was 
after  his  work  was  published. 

Until  Mr.  Mill  entered  the  field  there  were 
only  two  systems  of  logic.    The  first  was  the 
syllogistic  system  which  was  founded  by  Aris- 
4* 


82 


MILL  OK  LIBERTY. 


totle,  and  to  which  the  moderns  have  contrib- 
uted nothing  of  moment,  except  the  discovery 
during  the  present  century  of  the  quantifica- 
tion of  the  predicate.*  The  other  was  the 
inductive  system,  as  organized  by  Bacon,  to 
which  also  it  was  reserved  for  our  generation 
to  make  the  first  essential  addition ;  Sir  John 
Herschel  having  the  great  merit  of  ascertaining 
the  existence  of  four  different  methods,  the 
boundaries  of  which  had  escaped  the  attention 
of  previous  philosophers.f  That  the  word 
logic  should  by  most  writers  be  confined  to 
the  syllogistic,  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  called, 

*  Made  by  Sir  William  Hamilton  and  Mr.  De  Morgan  about 
the  same  time  and,  I  believe,  independently  of  each  other.  Be- 
fore this,  nothing  of  moment  had  been  added  to  the  Aristotelian 
doctrine  of  the  syllogism,  unless  we  consider  as  such  the  fourth 
figure.  This  was  unknown  to  Aristotle  ;  but  it  may  be  doubted 
if  it  is  essential ;  and,  if  I  rightly  remember,  Sir  Wm.  Hamilton 
did  not  attach  much  importance  to  the  fourth  syllogistic  figure, 
while  Archbishop  Whately  {Logic,  1857,  p.  5)  calls  it  'insig- 
nificant.' Compare  Hansel's  Aldrich,  1856,  p.  *76.  The  hypo- 
thetical syllogism  is  usually  said  to  be  post- Aristotelian ;  but 
although  I  cannot  now  recover  the  passage,  I  have  seen  evidence 
which  makes  me  suspect  that  it  was  known  to  Aristotle,  though 
not  formally  enunciated  by  him. 

f  This  is  acknowledged  by  Mr.  Mill,  who  has  stated  and 
analyzed  these  methods  with  great  clearness. — Mill's  Logic,  4th 
edit.  1856,  vol.  i.  p.  451. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


83 


Formal,  method,  is  a  striking  proof  of  the  ex- 
tent to  which  language  is  infested  by  the  old 
scholastic  prejudices ;  for,  as  the  science  of 
logic  is  the  theory  of  the  process  of  inference, 
and  as  the  art  of  logic  is  the  practical  skill 
of  inferring  rightly  from  given  data,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  any  system  is  a  system  of  logic  which 
ascertains  the  laws  of  the  theory,  and  lays  down 
the  rules  of  the  practice.  The  inductive  sys- 
tem of  logic  may  be  better  or  worse  than  the 
deductive ;  but  both  are  systems.*    And  till 

*  Archbishop  Whately,  who  has  written  what  is  probably  the 
best  elementary  treatise  existing  on  formal  logic,  adopts  the  old 
opinion  that  the  inductive  4  process  of  inquiry '  by  which  prem- 
ises are  obtained,  is  1  out  of  the  province  of  logic.' — Whately's 
Logic,  1857,  p.  151.  Mr.  De  Morgan,  whose  extremely  able 
work  goes  much  deeper  into  the  subject  than  Archbishop 
Whately's,  is,  however,  content  with  excluding  induction,  not 
from  logic,  but  from  formal  logic.  1  What  is  now  called  induc- 
tion, meaning  the  discovery  of  laws  from  instances,  and  higher 
laws  from  lower  ones,  is  beyond  the  province  of  formal  logic.' — 
De  Morgan's  Logic,  1847,  p.  215.  As  a  law  of  nature  is  fre- 
quently the  major  premiss  of  a  syllogism,  this  statement  of  Mr. 
De  Morgan's  seems  unobjectionable.  The  point  at  issue  involves 
much  more  than  a  mere  dispute  respecting  words,  and  I  there- 
fore add,  without  subscribing  to,  the  view  of  another  eminent 
authority.  '  To  entitle  any  work  to  be  classed  as  the  logic  of 
this  or  that  school,  it  is  at  least  necessary  that  it  should,  in  com- 


84 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


nearly  the  middle  of  the  present  century,  men 
were  divided  between  the  Aristotelian  logic 
which  infers  from  generals  to  particulars,  and 
the  Baconian  logic  which  infers  from  par- 
ticulars to  generals.* 

mon  with  the  Aristotelian  logic,  adhere  to  the  syllogistic  method, 
whatever  modifications  or  additions  it  may  derive  from  the  par- 
ticular school  of  its  author.' — Mansel's  Introduction  to  Aldrich's 
Artis  Logicce  Rudimenta,  1856,  p.  xlii.  See  also  Appendix,  pp. 
194,  195,  and  Mr.  Mansel's  Prolegomena  Logica,  1851,  pp.  89, 
169.  On  the  other  hand,  Bacon,  who  considered  the  syllogism 
to  be  worse  than  useless,  distinctly  claims  the  title  of  '  logical ' 
for  his  inductive  system.  '  Illud  vero  monendum,  nos  in  hoc 
nostro  organo  tractare  logicam,  non  philosophiam.' — Novum  Or- 
ganum,  lib.  ii.  Aphor.  lii.  in  Bacon's  Works,  vol.  iv.  p.  382. 
This  should  be  compared  with  the  remarks  of  Sir  Wm.  Hamilton 
on  inductive  logic  in  his  Discussions,  1852,  p.  158.  What 
strikes  one  most  in  this  controversy  is,  that  none  of  the  great 
advocates  of  the  exclusive  right  of  the  syllogistic  system  to  the 
word  '  logic '  appear  to  be  well  acquainted  with  physical  science. 
They,  therefore,  cannot  understand  the  real  nature  of  induction 
in  the  modern  sense  of  the  term,  and  they  naturally  depreciate  a 
method  with  whose  triumphs  they  have  no  sympathy. 

*  To  what  extent  Aristotle  did  or  did  not  recognize  an  in- 
duction of  particulars  as  the  first  step  in  our  knowledge,  and 
therefore  as  the  base  of  every  major  premiss,  has  been  often  dis- 
puted ;  but  I  have  not  heard  that  any  of  the  disputants  have 
adopted  the  only  means  by  which  such  a  question  can  be  tested 
— namely,  bringing  together  the  most  decisive  passages  from 


MILL  OK  LIBERTY. 


85 


While  the  science  of  logic  was  in  this  state, 
there  appeared  in  1843  Mr.  Mill's  System  of 
Logic  /  the  fundamental  idea  of  which  is,  that 
the  logical  process  is  not  from  generals  to 
particulars,  nor  from  particulars  to  generals, 
but  from  particulars  to  particulars.  According 
to  this  view,  which  is  gradually  securing  the 
adhesion  of  thinkers  the  syllogism,  instead  of 
being  an  act  of  reasoning,  is  an  act,  first  of 
registration,  and  then  of  interpretation.  The 
major  premiss  of  a  syllogism  being  the  record 
of  previous  induction,  the  business  of  syllogism 
is  to  interpret  that  record  and  bring  it  to  light. 
In  the  syllogism  we  preserve  our  experience, 
and  we  also  realize  it ;  but  the  reasoning  is  at 
an  end  when  the  major  premiss  is  enunciated. 
For,  after  that  enunciation,  no  fresh  truth  is 
propounded.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  the  major 
is  stated,  the  argument  is  over ;  because  the 
general  proposition  is  but  a  register,  or,  as  it 
were,  a  note-book,  of  inferences  which  involve 

Aristotle,  and  then  leaving  them  to  the  judgment  of  the  reader. 
As  this  seems  to  be  the  most  impartial  way  of  proceeding,  I  have 
gone  through  Aristotle's  logical  works  with  a  view  to  it ;  and 
those  who  are  interested  in  these  matters  will  find  the  extracts  at 
the  end  of  this  essay. 


86 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


everything  at  issue.  While,  however,  the 
syllogism  is  not  a  process  of  reasoning,  it  is 
a  security  that  the  previous  reasoning  is  good. 
And  this,  in  three  ways.  In  the  first  place, 
by  interposing  a  general  proposition  between 
the  collection  of  the  first  particulars  and 
the  statement  of  the  last  particulars,  it  pre- 
sents a  larger  object  to  the  imagination  than 
would  be  possible  if  we  had  only  the  par- 
ticulars in  our  mind.  In  the  second  place,  the 
syllogism  serves  as  an  artificial  memory,  and 
enables  us  to  preserve  order  among  a  mass 
of  details  ;  being  at  once  a  formula  into  which 
we  throw  them,  and  a  contrivance  by  which 
we  recall  them.  Finally,  the  syllogism  is  a 
protection  against  negligence  ;  since,  when  we 
infer  from  a  number  of  observed  cases  to  a 
case  we  have  not  yet  observed,  we,  instead  of 
jumping  at  once  to  that  case,  state  a  general 
proposition  which  includes  it,  and  which  must 
be  true  if  our  conclusion  is  true ;  so  that, 
by  this  means,  if  we  have  reasoned  errone- 
ously, the  error  becomes  more  broad  and  con- 
spicuous. 

This  remarkable  analysis  of  the  nature  and 
functions  of  the  syllogism  is,  so  far  as  our 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


87 


present  knowledge  goes,  exhaustive ;  whether 
or  not  it  will  admit  of  still  further  resolution 
we  cannot  tell.  At  all  events  it  is  a  contri- 
bution of  the  greatest  importance  to  the 
science  of  reasoning,  and  involves  many  other 
speculative  questions  which  are  indirectly 
connected  with  it,  but  which  I  shall  not  now 
open  up.  Neither  need  I  stop  to  show  how 
it  affords  a  basis  for  establishing  the  true  dis- 
tinction between  induction  and  deduction ;  a 
distinction  which  Mr.  Mill  is  one  of  the  ex- 
tremely few  English  writers  who  has  thor- 
oughly understood,  since  it  is  commonly  sup- 
posed in  this  country  that  geometry  is  the 
proper  type  of  deduction,  whereas  it  is  only 
one  of  the  types,  and,  though  an  admirable 
pattern  of  tire  deductive  investigation  of  coex- 
istences throws  no  light  on  the  deductive  in- 
vestigation of  sequences.  But,  passing  over 
these  matters  as  too  large  to  be  discussed  here, 
I  would  call  attention  to  a  fundamental  prin- 
ciple which  underlies  Mr.  Mill's  philosophy, 
and  from  which  it  will  appear  that  he  is  as 
much  opposed  to  the  advocates  of  the  Baconian 
method  as  to  those  of  the  Aristotelian.  In  this 
respect  he  has  been,  perhaps  unconsciously, 


88 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


greatly  influenced  by  the  spirit  of  the  age  ;  for 
it  might  be  easily  shown,  and  indeed  will  hardly 
be  disputed,  that  during  the  last  fifty  years  an 
opinion  has  been  gaining  ground,  that  the 
Baconian  system  has  been  overrated,  and  that 
its  favourite  idea,  of  proceeding  from  effects  to 
causes  instead  of  from  causes  to  effects,  will  not 
carry  us  so  far  as  was  supposed  by  the  truly 
great,  though  somewhat  empirical  thinkers  of 
the  eighteenth  century. 

One  point  in  which  the  inductive  philoso- 
phy commonly  received  in  England  is  very 
inaccurate,  and  which  Mr.  Mill  has  justly  at- 
tacked, is,  that  following  the  authority  of 
Bacon,  it  insists  upon  all  generalizations  being 
conducted  by  ascending  from  each  generaliza- 
tion to  the  one  immediately  above  and  ad- 
joining ;  and  it  denounces  as  hasty  and 
unphilosophic  any  attempt  to  soar  to  a  higher 
stage  without  mastering  the  intermediate 
steps.*    This  is  an  undue  limitation  of  that 

*  '  Ascendendo  continenter  et  gradatim,  ut  ultimo  loco  per- 
veniatur  ad  maxime  generalia ;  quae  via  vera  est,  sed  intentata.1 
Novum  Organum,  lib.  i.  aphor.  xix.  in  Bacon's  Works,  vol.  iv. 
p.  2G8.  London,  1778  ;  4to.  And  in  lib.  i.  aphor.  civ.  p.  294. 
— '  Sed  de  scientiis  turn  dernum  bene  sperandum  est,  quando  per 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


89 


peculiar  property  of  genius  which,  for  want  of 
a  better  word,  we  call  intuition  ;  and  that,  in 
this  respect,  Bacon's  philosophy  was  too  nar- 
row, and  placed  men  too  much  on  the  par* 
by  obliging  them  all  to  use  the  same  method 
is  now  frequently  though  not  generally  ad- 
mitted, and  has  been  perceived  by  several 
philosophers. f  The  objections  raised  by  Mr. 
Mill  on  this  ground,  though  put  with  great 
ability,  are,  as  he  would  be  the  first  to  confess, 

scalam  veram  et  per  gradus  continuos  et  non  intermissos,  aut 
hiulcos,  a  particularibus  ascendetur  ad  axiomata  minora,  et 
deinde  ad  media,  alia  aliis  superiora,  et  postremo  demum  ad 
generalissima.' 

*  1  Nostra  vero  invenieudi  scientias  ea  est  ratio,  ut  non  mul- 
tum  ingeniorum  acumini  et  robori  relinquatur ;  sed  quae  ingenia 
et  intellectus  fere  exaequet.* — Novum  Organum,  lib.  i.  aphor. 
lxi.  ;  Bacon's  Works,  vol.  iv.  p.  2*75.  And  in  lib.  i.  aphor. 
cxxii.  [  Works,  vol.  iv.  p.  301],  '  Nostra  enim  via  inveniendi 
scientias  exaequat  fere  ingenia,  et  non  multum  excellentiae 
eorum  relinquit ;  cum  -omnia  per  certissimas  regulas  et  demon- 
strationes  transigat.' 

f  And  is  noticed  in  Whewell's  Philosophy  of  the  Inductive 
Sciences,  1847,  vol.  ii.  p.  240;  though  this  celebrated  writer,  so 
far  from  connecting  it  with  Bacon's  doctrine  of  gradual  and  un- 
interrupted ascent,  considers  such  doctrine  to  be  the  peculiar 
merit  of  Bacon,  and  accuses  those  who  hold  a  contrary  opinion, 
of  'dimness  of  vision,'  pp.  126,  232.  Happily,  all  are  not  dim 
who  are  said  to  be  so. 


90 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


not  original ;  and  the  same  remark  may  be 
made  in  a  smaller  degree  concerning  another 
objection — namely,  that  Bacon  did  not  attach 
sufficient  weight  to  the  plurality  of  causes,* 
and  did  not  see  that  the  great  complexity 
they  produce  would  often  baffle  his  method, 
and  would  render  another  method  necessary. 
But  while  Mr.  Mill  has  in  these  parts  of 
his  work  been  anticipated,  there  is  a  more 
subtle,  and  as  it  appears  to  me,  a  more  fatal 
objection  which  he  has  made  against  the  Ba- 
conian philosophy.  And  as  this  objection,  be- 
sides being  entirely  new,  lies  far  out  of  the 
path  of  ordinary  speculation,  it  has  hardly 
yet  attracted  the  notice  even  of  philosophic 
logicians,  and  the  reader  will  probably  be 
interested  in  hearing  a  simple  and  untech- 
nical  statement  of  it. 

Logic,  considered  as  a  science,  is  solely 
concerned  with  induction ;  and  the  business 
of  induction  is  to  arrive  at  causes ;  or,  to 
speak  more  strictly,  to  arrive  at  a  knowledge 
of  the  laws  of  causation.f    So  far  Mr.  Mill 

*  Mill's  Logic,  fourth  edition,  vol.  ii.  p.  321.  I  am  almost 
sure  this  remark  has  been  made  before. 

f  '  The  main  question  of  the  science  of  logic  is  induction, 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


91 


agrees  with  Bacon  ;  but  from  tlie  operation 
of  this  rule  he  removes  an  immense  body  of 
phenomena  which  were  brought  under  it  by 
the  Baconian  philosophy.  He  asserts,  and 
I  think  he  proves,  that  though  uniformities 
of  succession  may  be  investigated  inductively, 
it  is  impossible  to  investigate,  after  that  fash- 
ion, uniformities  of  co-existence ;  and  that, 
therefore,  to  these  last  the  Baconian  method 
is  inapplicable.  If,  for  instance,  we  say  that 
all  negroes  have  woolly  hair,  we  affirm  an 
uniformity  of  co-existence  between  the  hair 
and  some  other  property  or  properties  essen- 
tial to  the  negro.  But  if  we  were  to  say  that 
they  have  woolly  hair  in  consequence  of  their 
skin  being  black,  we  should  affirm  an  uni- 
formity not  of  co-existence,  but  of  succession. 
Uniformities  of  succession  are  frequently  ame- 
nable to  induction :  uniformities  of  co-exis- 
tence are  never  amenable  to  it,  and  are  con- 

which,  however,  is  almost  entirely  passed  over  by  professed 
writers.' — Mill's  Logic,  vol.  i.  p.  309.  1  The  chief  object  of  in- 
ductive logic  is  to  point  out  how  the  laws  of  causation  are  to  be 
ascertained.' — Vol.  i.  p.  407.  1  The  mental  process  with  which 
logic  is  conversant,  the  operation  of  ascertaining  truths  by  means 
of  evidence,  is  always,  even  when  appearances  point  to  a  differ- 
ent theory  of  it,  a  process  of  induction.' — Vol.  ii.  p.  1*77. 


92 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


sequently  out  of  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Baconian 
philosophy.  They  may,  no  doubt,  be  treated 
according  to  the  simple  enumeration  of  the 
ancients,  which,  however,  was  so  crude  an 
induction  as  hardly  to  be  worthy  the  name.* 
But  the  powerful  induction  of  the  moderns, 
depending  npon  a  separation  of  nature,  and 
an  elimination  of  disturbances,  is,  in  reference 
to   co-existences,  absolutely  impotent.  "The 

*  The  character  of  the  Aristotelian  induction  is  so  justly- 
portrayed  by  Mr.  Maurice  in  his  admirable  account  of  the  Greek 
philosophy,  that  I  cannot  resist  the  pleasure  of  transcribing  the 
passage.  1  What  this  induction  is,  and  how  entirely  it  differs 
from  that  process  which  bears  the  same  name  in  the  writings  of 
Bacon,  the  reader  will  perceive  the  more  he  studies  the  different 
writings  of  Aristotle.  He  will  find,  first,  that  the  sensible  phe- 
nomenon is  taken  for  granted  as  a  safe  starting  point.  That 
phenomena  are  not  principles,  Aristotle  believed  as  strongly  as 
we  could.  But,  to  suspect  phenomena,  to  suppose  that  they 
need  sifting  and  probing  in  order  that  we  may  know  what  the 
fact  is  which  they  denote,  this  is  no  part  of  his  system.' — 
Maurice's  Ancient  Philosophy,  1850,  p.  1*73.  Nothing  can  be 
better  than  the  expression  that  Aristotle  did  not  suspect  phe- 
nomena. The  moderns  do  suspect  them,  and  therefore  test 
them  either  by  crucial  experiments  or  by  averages.  The  latter 
resource  was  not  effectively  employed  until  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. It  now  bids  fair  to  be  of  immense  importance,  though  in 
some  branches  of  inquiry  the  nomenclature  must  become  more 
precise  before  the  full  value  of  the  method  can  be  seen. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


93 


utmost  that  it  can  give  is  empirical  laws, 
useful  for  practical  guidance,  but  void  of 
scientific  value.  That  this  has  hitherto  been 
the  case  the  history  of  our  knowledge  decisively 
proves.  That  it  always  will  be  the  case  is, 
in  Mr.  Mill's  opinion,  equally  certain,  be- 
cause while,  on  the  one  hand,  the  study  of 
uniformities  of  succession  has  for  its  basis  that 
absorbing  and  over-ruling  hypothesis  of  the 
constancy  of  causation,  on  which  every  human 
being  more  or  less  relies,  and  to  which  phil- 
osophers will  hear  of  no  exception ;  wre,  on 
the  other  hand,  find  that  the  study  of  the 
uniformities  of  co-existence  has  no  such  sup- 
port, and  that  therefore  the  whole  field  of 
inquiry  is  unsettled  and  indeterminate.  Thus 
it  is  that  if  I  see  a  negro  suffering  pain,  the 
law  of  causation  compels  me  to  believe  that 
something  had  previously  happened  of  which 
pain  was  the  necessary  consequence.  But 
I  am  not  bound  to  believe  that  he  possesses 
some  property  of  which  his  woolly  hair  or  his 
dark  skin  are  the  necessary  accompaniments. 
I  cling  to  the  necessity  of  an  uniform  se- 
quence ;  I  reject  the  necessity  of  an  uniform 
co-existence.    This  is  the  difference  between 


94, 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


consequences  and  concomitants.  That  the  pain 
has  a  cause,  I  am  well  assured.  But  for 
aught  I  can  tell,  the  blackness  and  the 
woolliness  may  be  ultimate  properties  which 
are  referrible  to  no  cause  ;*  or  if  they  are 
not  ultimate  properties,  each  may  be  de- 
pendent on  its  own  cause,  but  not  be  neces- 
sarily connected.  The  relation,  therefore,  may 
be  universal  in  regard  to  the  fact,  and  yet 
casual  in  regard  to  the  science. 

This  distinction  when  once  stated  is  very 
simple ;  but  its  consequences  in  relation  to 
the  science  of  logic  had  escaped  all  previous 
thinkers.  When  thoroughly  appreciated,  it 
will  dispel  the  idle  dream  of  the  universal 
application  of  the  Baconian  philosophy ;  and 
in  the  meantime  it  will  explain  how  it  was 
that  even  during  Bacon's  life,  and  in  his  own 
hands,  his  method  frequently  and  signally 
failed.    He  evidently  believed  that  as  every 

*  That  is,  not  logically  referrible  by  the  understanding.  I 
say  nothing  of  causes  which  touch  on  transcendental  grounds ; 
but,  barring  these,  Mr.  Mill's  assertion  seems  unimpeachable, 
that  '  co-existences  between  the  ultimate  properties  of  things ' 
.  .  .  *  cannot  depend  on  causation,'  unless  by  '  ascending  to  the 
origin  of  all  things.' — Mill's  Logic,  vol.  ii.  p.  106. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


95 


phenomenon,  has  something  which  must  fol- 
low from  it,  so  also  it  has  something  which 
must  go  with  it,  and  which  he  termed  its 
Form.*  If  he  could  generalize  the  form — 
that  is  to  say,  if  he  could  obtain  the  law  of 
the  co-existence — he  rightly  supposed  that 
he  would  gain  a  scientific  knowledge  of  the 
phenomenon.  With  this  view  he  taxed  his 
fertile  invention  to  the  utmost.  He  contrived 
a  variety  of  refined  and  ingenious  artifices, 
by  which  various  instances  might  be  succes- 
fully  compared,  and  the  conditions  which  are 
essential,  distinguished  from  those  which  are 
non-essential.  '  He  collated  negatives  with 
affirmatives,  and  taught  the  art  of  separating 
nature  by  rejections  and  exclusions.  Yet,  in 
regard  to  the  study  of  co-existences,  all  his 
caution,  all  his  knowledge,  and  all  his  thought, 

*  'Etenim  forma  naturae  alicujus  talis  est,  ut,  ea  posita, 
natura  data  infallibiliter  sequatur.  Itaque  adest  perpetuo,  quando 
natura  ilia  adest,  atque  earn  universaliter  affirmat,  atque  inest 
omni.  Eadem  forma  talis  est,  ut  ea  amota,  natura  data  infallibi- 
liter fugiat.  Itaque  abest  perpetua  quando  natura  ilia  abest, 
eamque  perpetuo  abnegat,  atque  inest  soli.1 — Novum  Organum, 
lib.  ii.  aphor.  iv. ;  Works,  vol.  iv.  p.  307.  Compare  also  respect- 
ing these  forms,  his  treatise  on  The  Advancement  of  Learning, 
book  ii. ;  Works,  vol.  i.  pp.  57,  58,  61,  62. 


96 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


were  useless.  His  weapons,  notwithstanding 
their  power,  could  make  no  impression  on 
that  stubborn  and  refractory  topic.  The  laws 
of  co-existences  are  as  great  a  mystery  as 
ever,  and  all  our  conclusions  respecting  them 
are  purely  empirical.  Every  inductive  science 
now  existing  is,  in  its  strictly  scientific  part, 
solely  a  generalization  of  sequences.  The 
reason  of  this,  though  vaguely  appreciated  by 
several  writers,  was  first  clearly  stated  and 
connected  with  the  general  theory  of  our 
knowledge  by  Mr.  Mill.  He  has  the  immense 
merit  of  striking  at  once  to  the  very  root  of 
the  subject,  and  showing  that,  in  the  science 
of  logic,  there  is  a  fundamental  distinction 
which  forbids  us  to  treat  co-existences  as  Ave 
may  treat  sequences ;  that  a  neglect  of  this 
distinction  impairs  the  value  of  the  philosophy 
of  Bacon,  and  has  crippled  his  successors ; 
and  finally,  that  the  origin  of  this  distinction 
may  be  traced  backward  and  upward  until 
we  reach  those  ultimate  laws  of  causation 
which  support  the  fabric  of  our  knowledge, 
and  beyond  which  the  human  mind,  in  the 
present  stage  of  its  development,  is  unable  to 
penetrate. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY.  97 

While  Mr.  Mill,  both  by  delving  to  the 
foundation  and  rising  to  the  summit,  has  ex- 
cluded the  Baconian  philosophy  from  the 
investigation  of  co-existences,  he  has  likewise 
proved  its  incapacity  for  solving  those  vast 
social  problems  which  now,  for  the  first  time 
in  the  history  of  the  world,  the  most  advanced 
thinkers  are  setting  themselves  to  work  at 
deliberately,  with  scientific  purpose,  and  with 
something  like  adequate  resources.  As  this, 
however,  pertains  to  that  domain  to  which  I 
too,  according  to  my  measure  and  with  what- 
ever power  I  may  haply  possess,  have  devoted 
myself,  I  am  unwilling  to  discuss  here  what 
elsewhere  I  shall  find  a  fitter  place  for  con- 
sidering ;  and  I  shall  be  content  if  I  have  con- 
veyed to  the  reader  some  idea  of  what  has 
been  effected  by  one  whom  I  cannot  but  regard 
as  the  most  profound  thinker  England  has 
produced  since  the  seventeenth  century,  and 
whose  services,  though  recognized  by  innumer- 
able persons  each  in  his  own  peculiar  walk, 
are  little  understood  in  their  entirety,  because 
we,  owing  partly  to  the  constantly  increasing 
mass  of  our  knowledge,  and  partly  to  an  ex- 
cessive veneration  for  the  principle  of  the 
5 


98 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


division  of  labour,  are  too  prone  to  isolate  our 
inquiries  and  to  narrow  the  range  of  our  in- 
tellectual sympathies.  The  notion  that  a  man 
will  best  succeed  by  adhering  to  one  pursuit, 
is  as  true  in  practical  life  as  it  is  false  in 
speculative  life.  JS"o  one  can  have  a  firm  grasp 
of  any  science  if,  by  confining  himself  to  it, 
he  shuts  out  the  light  of  analogy,  and  deprives 
himself  of  that  peculiar  aid  which  is  derived 
from  a  commanding  survey  of  the  co-ordina- 
tion and  interdependence  of  things  and  of 
the  relation  they  bear  to  each  other.  He 
may,  no  doubt,  work  at  the  details  of  his 
subject ;  he  may  be  useful  in  adding  to  its 
facts ;  he  will  never  be  able  to  enlarge  its 
philosophy.  For,  the  philosophy  of  every 
department  depends  on  its  connexion  with 
other  departments,  and  must  therefore  be 
sought  at  their  points  of  contact.  It  must  be 
looked  for  in  the  place  where  they  touch  and 
coalesce ;  it  lies  not  in  the  centre  of  each 
science,  but  on  the  confines  and  margin.  This, 
however,  is  a  truth  which  men  are  apt  to 
reject,  because  they  are  naturally  averse  to 
comprehensive  labour,  and  are  too  ready  to 
believe  that  their  own  peculiar  and  limited 


MILL  ON  LIBEETY. 


99 


science  is  so  important  that  they  would  not 
be  justified  in  striking  into  paths  which  diverge 
from  it.  Hence  we  see  physical  philosophers 
knowing  nothing  of  political  economy,  political 
economists  nothing  of  physical  science,  and 
logicians  nothing  of  either.  Hence,  too,  there 
are  few  indeed  who  are  capable  of  measuring 
the  enormous  field  which  Mr.  Mill  has  trav- 
ersed, or  of  scanning  the  depth  to  which  in 
that  field  he  has  sunk  his  shaft. 

It  is  from  such  a  man  as  this,  that  a  work 
has  recently  issued  upon  a  subject  far  more 
important  than  any  which  even  he  had 
previously  investigated,  and  in  fact  the  most 
important  with  which  the  human  mind  can 
grapple.  For,  Liberty  is  the  one  thing  most 
essential  to  the  right  development  of  indi- 
viduals and  to  the  real  grandeur  of  nations. 
It  is  a  product  of  knowledge  when  knowledge 
advances  in  a  healthy  and  regular  manner ; 
but  if  under  certain  unhappy  circumstances 
it  is  opposed  by  what  seems  to  be  knowledge, 
then,  in  God's  name,  let  knowledge  perish  and 
Liberty  be  preserved.  Liberty  is  not  a  means 
to  an  end,  it  is  an  end  itself.  To  secure  it, 
to  enlarge  it,  and  to  diffuse  it,  should  be  the 


100 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


main  object  of  all  social  arrangements  and  of 
all  political  contrivances.  Xone  but  a  pedant 
or  a  tyrant  can  put  science  or  literature  in 
competition  with  it.  "Within  certain  limits, 
and  very  small  limits  too,  it  is  the  inalienable 
prerogative  of  man,  of  which  no  force  of 
circumstances  and  no  lapse  of  time  can  de- 
prive him.  He  has  no  right  to  barter  it  away 
even  from  himself,  still  less  from  his  children. 
It  is  the  foundation  of  all  self-respect,  and 
without  it  the  great  doctrine  of  moral  respon- 
sibility would  degenerate  into  a  lie  and  a 
juggle.  It  is  a  sacred  deposit,  and  the  love 
of  it  is  a  holy  instinct  engraven  in  our  hearts. 
And  if  it  could  be  shown  that  the  tendency 
of  advancing  knowledge  is  to  encroach  upon 
it ;  if  it  could  be  proved  that  in  the  march 
of  what  we  call  civilization,  the  desire  for 
liberty  did  necessarily  decline,  and  the  exercise 
of  liberty  become  less  frequent ;  if  this  could 
be  made  apparent,  I  for  one  should  wish  that 
-the  human  race  might  halt  in  its  career,  and 
that  we  might  recede  step  by  step,  so  that 
the  very  trophies  and  memory  of  our  glory 
should  vanish,  sooner  than  that  men  were 
bribed  by  their  splendour  to  forget  the  senti- 
ment of  their  own  personal  dignity. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


101 


But  it  cannot  be.  Surely  it  cannot  be  that 
we,  improving  in  all  other  things,  should  be 
retrograding  in  the  most  essential.  Yet, 
among  thinkers  of  great  depth  and  authority, 
there  is  a  fear  that  such  is  the  case.  "With 
that  fear  I  cannot  agree ;  but  the  existence 
of  the  fear,  and  the  discussions  to  which  it  has 
led  and  will  lead  are  extremely  salutary,  as 
calling  our  attention  to  an  evil  which  in  the 
eagerness  of  our  advance  we  might  otherwise 
overlook.  "We  are  stepping  on  at  a  rate  of 
which  no  previous  example  has  been  seen ; 
and  it  is  good  that,  amid  the  pride  and  flush 
of  our  prosperity,  we  should  be  made  to  in- 
quire what  price  we  have  paid  for  our  suc- 
cess. Let  us  compute  the  cost  as  well  as  the 
gain.  Before  we  announce  our  fortune  we 
should  balance  our  books.  Every  one,  there- 
fore, should  rejoice  at  the  appearance  of  a 
work  in  which  for  the  first  time  the  great 
question  of  Liberty  is  unfolded  in  all  its 
dimensions,  considered  on  every  side  and  from 
every  aspect,  and  brought  to  bear  upon  our 
present  condition  with  a  steadiness  of  hand 
and  a  clearness  of  purpose  which  they  will 
most  admire  who  are  most  accustomed  to 
reflect  on  this  difficult  and  complicated  topic. 


102 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


In  the  actual  state  of  the  world,  Mr.  Mill 
rightly  considers  that  the  least  important  part 
of  the  question  of  liberty  is  that  which  con- 
cerns the  relation  between  subjects  and  rulers. 
On  this  point,  notwithstanding  the  momentary 
ascendancy  of  despotism  on  the  Continent, 
there  is,  I  believe,  nothing  to  dread.  In 
France  and  Germany,  the  bodies  of  men  are 
enslaved,  but  not  their  minds.  Xearly  all  the 
intellect  of  Europe  is  arrayed  against  tyranny, 
and  the  ultimate  result  of  such  a  struggle  can 
hardly  be  doubted.  The  immense  armies  which 
are  maintained,  and  which  some  mention  as 
a  proof  that  the  love  of  war  is  increasing 
instead  of  diminishing,  are  merely  an  evidence 
that  the  governing  classes  distrust  and  suspect 
the  future,  and  know  that  their  real  danger 
is  to  be  found  not  abroad  but  at  home.  They 
fear  revolution  far  more  than  invasion.  The 
state  of  foreign  affairs  is  their  pretence  for 
arming ;  the  state  of  public  opinion  is  the 
cause.  And  right  glad  they  are  to  find  a 
decent  pretext  for  protecting  themselves  from 
that  punishment  which  many  of  them  richly 
deserve.  But  I  cannot  understand  how  any 
one  who  has  carefully  studied  the  march  of 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


103 


the  European  mind,  and  has  seen  it  triumph 
over  obstacles  ten  times  more  formidable 
than  these,  can  really  apprehend  that  the 
liberties  of  Europe  will  ultimately  fall  before 
those  who  now  threaten  their  existence.  When 
the  spirit  of  freedom  was  far  less  strong  and 
less  universal,  the  task  was  tried,  and  tried  in 
vain.  It  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  the 
monarchical  principle,  decrepit  as  it  now  is, 
and  stripped  of  that  dogma  of  divine  right 
which  long  upheld  it,  can  eventually  with- 
stand the  pressure  of  those  general  causes 
which,  for  three  centuries,  have  marked  it 
for  destruction.  And,  since  despotism  has 
chosen  the  institution  of  monarchy  as  that 
under  which  it  seeks  a  shelter,  and  for  which 
it  will  fight  its  last  battle,  we  may  fairly  as- 
sume that  the  danger  is  less  imminent  than  is 
commonly  imagined,  and  that  they  who  rely 
on  an  old  and  enfeebled  principle,  with  which 
neither  the  religion  nor  the  affections  of  men 
are  associated  as  of  yore,  will  find  that 
they  are  leaning  on  a  broken  reed,  and  that 
the  sceptre  of  their  power  will  pass  from 
them. 

I  cannot,  therefore,  participate  in  the  feel- 


104: 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


ings  of  those  who  look  with,  apprehensions 
at  the  present  condition  of  Europe.  Mr.  Mill 
would  perhaps  take  a  less  sanguine  view ; 
but  it  is  observable  that  the  greater  part  of 
his  defence  of  liberty  is  not  directed  against 
political  tyranny.  There  is,  however,  another 
sort  of  tyranny  which  is  far  more  insidious, 
and  against  which  he  has  chiefly  bent  his 
efforts.  This  is  the  despotism  of  custom,  to 
which  ordinary  minds  entirely  succumb,  and 
before  which  even  strong  minds  quail.  But 
custom  being  merely  the  product  of  public 
opinion,  or  rather  its  external  manifestation, 
the  two  principles  of  custom  and  opinion 
must  be  considered  together ;  and  I  will  briefly 
state  how,  according  to  Mr.  Mill,  their  joint 
action  is  producing  serious  mischief,  and  is 
threatening  mischief  more  serious  still. 

The  proposition  which  Mr.  Mill  undertakes 
to  establish  is,  that  society,  whether  acting 
by  the  legislature  or  by  the  influence  of  public 
opinion,  has  no  right  to  interfere  with  the 
conduct  of  any  individual  for  the  sake  of  his 
own  good.  Society  may  interfere  with  him 
for  their  good,  not  for  his.  If  his  actions  hurt 
them,   he    is,   under    certain  circumstances, 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


105 


amenable  to  their  authority ;  if  they  only 
hurt  himself,  he  is  never  amenable.  The 
proposition,  thus  stated,  will  be  acceded  to 
by  many  persons  who,  in  practice,  repudiate 
it  every  day  of  their  lives.  The  ridicule  which 
is  cast  upon  whoever  deviates  from  an  estab- 
lished custom,  however  trifling  and  foolish 
that  custom  may  be,  shows  the  determination 
of  society  to  exercise  arbitrary  sway  over  in- 
dividuals. On  the  most  insignificant  as  well 
as  on  the  most  important  matters,  rules  are 
laid  down  which  no  one  dares  to  violate, 
except  in  those  extremely  rare  cases  in  which 
great  intellect,  great  wealth,  or  great  rank 
enable  a  man  rather  to  command  society  than 
to  be  commanded  by  it.  The  immense  mass  of 
mankind  are,  in  regard  to  their  usages,  in  a 
state  of  social  slavery  ;  each  man  being  bound 
under  heavy  penalties  to  conform  to  the  stand- 
ard of  life  common  to  his  own  class.  How 
serious  those  penalties  are,  is  evident  from  the 
fact  that  though  innumerable  persons  complain 
of  prevailing  customs  and  wish  to  shake  them 
off,  they  dare  not  do  so,  but  continue  to  prac- 
tise them,  though  frequently  at  the  expense 
of  health,  comfort,  and  fortune.  Men,  not 
5* 


106 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


cowards  in  other  respects,  and  of  a  fair  share 
of  moral  courage,  are  afraid  to  rebel  against 
this  grievous  and  exacting  tyranny.  The 
consequences  of  this  are  injurious,  not  only 
to  those  who  desire  to  be  freed  from  the 
thraldom,  but  also  to  those  who  do  not 
desire  to  be  freed ;  that  is,  to  the  whole 
of  society.  Of  these  results,  there  are  two 
particularly  mischievous,  and  which,  in  the 
opinion  of  Mr.  Mill,  are  likely  to  gain  ground, 
unless  some  sudden  change  of  sentiment  should 
occur. 

The  first  mischief  is,  that  a  sufficient  num- 
ber of  experiments  are  not  made  respecting 
the  different  ways  of  living ;  from  which  it 
happens  that  the  art  of  life  is  not  so  well 
understood  as  it  otherwise  would  be.  If  society 
were  more  lenient  to  eccentricity,  and  more 
inclined  to  examine  what  is  unusual  than  to 
laugh  at  it,  we  should  find  that  many  courses 
of  conduct  which  we  call  whimsical,  and  which 
according  to  the  ordinary  standard  are  ut- 
terly irrational,  have  more  reason  in  them 
than  we  are  disposed  to  imagine.  But,  while 
a  country  or  an  age  will  obstinately  insist 
upon  condemning  all  human  conduct  which 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY.  10T 

is  not  in  accordance  with  the  manner  or  fashion 
of  the  day,  deviations  from  the  straight  line 
will  be  rarely  hazarded.  "We  are,  therefore, 
prevented  from  knowing  how  far  such  devia- 
tions would  be  useful.  By  discouraging  the 
experiment,  we  retard  the  knowledge.  On 
this  account,  if  on  no  other,  it  is  advisable 
that  the  widest  latitude  should  be  given  to 
unusual  actions,  which  ought  to  be  valued  as 
tests  whereby  we  may  ascertain  whether  or 
not  particular  things  are  expedient.  Of  course, 
the  essentials  of  morals  are  not  to  be  violated, 
nor  the  public  peace  to  be  disturbed.  But 
short  of  this,  every  indulgence  should  be 
granted.  For  progress  depends  upon  change  ; 
and  it  is  only  by  practising  uncustomary 
things  that  we  can  discover  if  they  are  fit  to 
become  customary. 

The  other  evil  which  society  inflicts  on 
herself  by  her  own  tyranny  is  still  more 
serious  ;  and  although  I  cannot  go  with  Mr. 
Mill  in  considering  the  danger  to  be  so  immi- 
nent as  he  does,  there  can,  I  think,  be  little 
doubt  that  it  is  the  one  weak  point  in  modern 
civilization ;  and  that  it  is  the  only  thing  of 
importance  in  which,  if  we  are  not  actually 


108 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


receding,  we  are  making  no  perceptible  ad- 
vance. 

This  is,  that  most  precious  and  inestimable 
quality,  the  quality  of  individuality.  That 
the  increasing  authority  of  society,  if  not  coun- 
teracted by  other  causes,  tends  to  limit  the 
exercise  of  this  quality,  seems  indisputable. 
Whether  or  not  there  are  counteracting  causes 
is  a  question  of  great  complexity,  and  could 
not  be  discussed  without  entering  into  the 
general  theory  of  our  existing  civilization. 
With  the  most  unfeigned  deference  for  every 
opinion  enunciated  by  Mr.  Mill,  I  venture  to 
differ  from  him  on  this  matter,  and  to  think 
that,  on  the  whole,  individuality  is  not  dimin- 
ishing, and  that  so  far  as  we  can  estimate 
the  future,  it  is  not  likely  to  diminish.  But 
it  would  ill  become  any  man  to  combat  the 
views  of  this  great  thinker,  without  subjecting 
the  point  at  issue  to  a  rigid  and  careful 
analysis ;  and  as  I  have  not  done  so,  I  will 
not  weaken  my  theory  by  advancing  imper- 
fect arguments  in  its  favour,  but  will,  as 
before,  confine  myself  to  stating  the  conclu- 
sions at  which  he  has  arrived,  after  what  has 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


109 


evidently  been  a  train  of  long  and  anxious 
reflection. 

According  to  Mr.  Mill,  tilings  are  tending, 
and  have  for  some  time  tended,  to  lessen  the 
influence  of  original  minds,  and  to  raise  medi- 
ocrity to  the  foremost  place.  Individuals  are 
lost  in  the  crowd.  The  world  is  ruled  not  by 
them,  but  by  public  opinion ;  and  public 
opinion,  being  the  voice  of  the  many,  is  the 
voice  of  mediocrity.  Affairs  are  now  gov- 
erned by  average  men,  who  will  not  pay  to 
great  men  the  deference  that  was  formerly 
yielded.  Energy  and  originality  being  less 
respected,  are  becoming  more  rare ;  and  in 
England  in  particular,  real  energy  has  hardly 
any  field,  except  in  business,  where  a  large 
amount  of  it  undoubtedly  exists.*  Our  great- 
ness is  collective,  and  depends  not  upon  what 
we  do  as  individuals,  but  upon  our  power 
of  combining.  In  every  successive  genera- 
tion, men  more  resemble  each  other  in  all 
• 

*  '  There  is  now  scarcely  any  outlet  for  energy  in  this  coun- 
try except  business.  The  energy  expended  in  that  may  still  be 
regarded  as  considerable.' — Mill  On  Liberty,  p.  125.  I  suppose 
that,  under  the  word  business,  Mr.  Mill  includes  political  and  the 
higher  class  of  official  pursuits. 


110 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


respects.  They  are  more  alike  in  their  civil, 
and  political  privileges,  in  their  habits,  in  their 
tastes,  in  their  manners,  in  their  dress,  in  what 
they  see,  in  what  they  do,  in  what  they  read, 
in  what  they  think,  and  in  what  they  say. 
On  all  sides  the  process  of  assimilation  is 
going  on.  Shades  of  character  are  being 
blended,  and  contrasts  of  will  are  being  recon- 
ciled. As  a  natural  consequence,  the  indi- 
vidual life,  that  is,  the  life  which  distinguishes 
each  man  from  his  fellows,  is  perishing.  The 
consolidation  of  the  many  destroys  the  action 
of  the  few.  While  we  amalgamate  the  mass, 
we  absorb  the  unit. 

The  authority  of  society  is,  in  this  way, 
ruining  society  itself.  For,  the  human  fac- 
ulties can,  for  the  most  part,  only  be  exercised 
and  disciplined  by  the  act  of  choosing ;  but 
he  who  does  a  thing  merely  because  others 
do  it,  makes  no  choice  at  all.  Constantly 
copying  the  manners  and  opinions  of  our 
contemporaries,  we  strike  out  nothing  that  is 
new  ;  we  follow  on  in  a  dull  and  monotonous 
uniformity.  "We  go  where  others  lead.  The 
field  of  option  is  being  straitened  ;  the  number 
of  alternatives  is  diminishing.    And  the  result 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


Ill 


is,  a  sensible  decay  of  that  vigour  and  raciness 
of  character,  that  diversity  and  fulness  of  life, 
and  that  audacity  both  of  conception  and  of 
execution  which  marked  the  strong  men  of 
former  times,  and  enabled  them  at  once  to 
imj)rove  and  to  guide  the  human  species. 

Now  all  this  is  gone,  perhaps  never  to 
return,  unless  some  great  convulsion  should 
previously  occur.  Originality  is  dying  away, 
and  is  being  replaced  by  a  spirit  of  servile 
and  apish  imitation.  "We  are  degenerating 
into  machines  who  do  the  will  of  society ; 
our  impulses  and  desires  are  repressed  by  a 
galling  and  artificial  code ;  our  minds  are 
dwarfed  and  stunted  by  the  checks  and 
limitations  to  which  we  are  perpetually  sub- 
jected. 

How,  then,  is  it  possible  to  discover  new 
truths  of  real  importance?  How  is  it  possible 
that  creative  thought  can  flourish  in  so  sickly 
and  tainted  an  atmosphere?  Genius  is  a  form 
of  originality ;  if  the  originality  is  discour- 
aged, how  can  the  genius  remain  ?  It  is  hard 
to  see  the  remedy  for  this  crying  evil.  Society 
is  growing  so  strong  as  to  destroy  indi- 
viduality ;  that  is,  to  destroy  the  very  quality 


112 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


to  -which,  our  civilization,  and  therefore  our 
social  fabric,  is  primarily  owing. 

The  truth  is,  that  we  must  vindicate  the 
right  of  each  man  to  do  what  he  likes,  and  to 
say  what  he  thinks,  to  an  extent  much  greater 
than  is  usually  supposed  to  be  either  safe  or 
decent.  This  we  must  do  for  the  sake  of  so- 
ciety, quite  as  much  as  for  our  own  sake.  That 
society  would  be  benefited  by  a  greater  free- 
dom of  action  has  been  already  shown  ;  and 
the  same  thing  may  be  proved  concerning  free- 
dom of  speech  and  of  writing.  In  this  respect, 
authors,  and  the  teachers  of  mankind  gen- 
erally, are  far  too  timid  ;  while  the  state  of 
public  opinion  is  far  too  interfering.  The  re- 
marks which  Mr.  Mill  has  made  on  this,  are 
so  exhaustive  as  to  be  unanswerable ;  and 
though  many  will  call  in  question  what  he 
has  said  respecting  the  decline  of  individuality, 
no  well  instructed  person  will  dispute  the 
accuracy  of  his  conclusions  respecting  the  need 
of  an  increased  liberty  of  discussion  and  of 
publication. 

In  the  present  state  of  knowledge  the 
majority  of  people  are  so  ill-informed  as  not 
to  be  aware  of  the  true  nature  of  belief ;  they 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


113 


are  not  aware  that  all  belief  is  involuntary,  and 
is  entirely  governed  by  the  circumstances  which 
produce  it.    They  who  have  paid  attention  to 
these  subjects,  know  that  what  we  call  the  will 
has  no  power  over  belief,  and  that  consequently 
a  man  is  nowise  responsible  for  his  creed,  ex- 
cept in  so  far  as  he  is  responsible  for  the  events 
which  gave  him  his  creed.    Whether,  for  in- 
stance, he  is  a  Mohammedan  or  a  Christian, 
will  usually  resolve  itself  into  a  simple  question 
of  his  geographical  antecedents.     He  who  is 
born  in  Constantinople,  will  hold  one  set  of 
opinions  ;  he  who  is  born  in  London,  will  hold 
another  set.    Both  act  according  to  their  li^ht 
and  their  circumstances,  and  if  both  are  sincere 
both  are  guiltless.    In  each  case,  the  believer 
is  controlled  by  physical  facts  which  deter- 
mine his  creed  and  over  which  he  can  no 
more  exercise  authority  than  he  can  exercise 
authority  over  the  movements  of  the  planets 
or  the  rotation   of  the   earth.    This  view, 
though  long  familiar  to  thinkers,  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  been  popularized  before  the 
present  century  ;*  and  to  its  diffusion,  as  well 

*  Its  diffusion  was  greatly  helped  by  Bailey's  Essays  on  the 
Formation  of  Opinions,  which  were  first  published,  I  believe, 


114: 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


as  to  other  larger  and  more  potent  causes,  we 
must  ascribe  the  increasing  spirit  of  toleration 
to  which  not  only  our  literature  but  even 
our  statute-book  bears  witness. 

But,  though  belief  is  involuntary,  it  will 
be  objected,  with  a  certain  degree  of  plausi- 
bility, that  the  expression  of  that  belief,  and 
particularly  the  formal  and  written  publica- 
tion, is  a  voluntary  act,  and  consequently  a 
responsible  one.  If  I  were  arguing  the  ques- 
tion exhaustively,  I  should  at  the  outset  demur 
to  this  proposition,  and  should  require  it  to  be 
stated  in  more  cautious  and  limited  terms  ; 
but,  to  save  time,  let  us  suppose  it  to  be  true, 
and  let  us  inquire  whether,  if  a  man  be  respon- 
sible to  himself  for  the  publication  of  his 
opinions,  it  is  right  that  he  should  be  also 
held  responsible  by  those  to  whom  he  offers 
them  ?  In  other  words,  is  it  proper  that  law 
or  public  opinion  should  discourage  an  indi- 
vidual from  publishing  sentiments  which  are 
hostile  to  the  prevailing  notions,  and  are 
considered  by  the  rest  of  society  to  be  false 
and  mischievous  ? 

in  1821 ;  and  being  popularly  written,  as  well  as  suitable  to  the 
age,  have  exercised  considerable  influence. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


115 


Upon  this  point,  the  arguments  of  Mr. 
Mill  are  so  full  and  decisive  that  I  despair  of 
adding  anything  to  them.  It  will  be  enough 
if  I  give  a  summary  of  the  principal  ones  ; 
for  it  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  before  many 
months  are  past,  this  noble  treatise,  so  full  of 
wisdom  and  of  thought,  is  not  in  the  hands  of 
every  one  who  cares  for  the  future  welfare 
of  humanity,  and  whose  ideas  rise  above  the 
immediate  interests  of  his  own  time. 

Those  who  hold  that  an  individual  ought 
to  be  discouraged  from  publishing  a  work  con- 
taining heretical  or  irreligious  opinions,  must, 
of  course,  assume  that  such  opinions  are  false  ; 
since,  in  the  present  day,  hardly  any  man 
would  be  so  impudent  as  to  propose  that  a 
true  opinion  should  be  stifled  because  it  was 
unusual  as  well  as  true.  "We  are  all  agreed 
that  truth  is  good ;  or,  at  all  events,  those 
who  are  not  agreed  must  be  treated  as  persons 
beyond  the  pale  of  reason,  and  on  whose 
obtuse  understandings  it  would  be  idle  to 
waste  an  argument.  He  who  says  that  truth 
is  not  always  to  be  told,  and  that  it  is  not  fit 
for  all  minds,  is  simply  a  defender  of  false- 
hood ;  and  we  should  take  no  notice  of  him. 


116 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


inasmuch  as  the  object  of  discussion  being  to 
destroy  error,  we  cannot  discuss  with  a  man 
who  deliberately  affirms  that  error  should  be 
spared. 

We  take,  therefore,  for  granted  that  those 
who  seek  to  prevent  any  opinion  being  laid 
before  the  world,  do  so  for  the  sake  of  truth, 
and  with  a  view  to  prevent  the  unwary  from 
being  led  into  error.  The  intention  is  good  ;  it 
remains  for  us  to  inquire  how  it  operates. 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  we  can  never  be 
sure  that  the  opinion  of  the  majority  is  true. 
Nearly  every  opinion  held  by  the  majority 
was  once  confined  to  the  minority.  Every 
established  religion  was  once  a  heresy.  If 
the  opinions  of  the  majority  had  always  pre- 
vailed, Christianity  would  have  been  extirpated 
as  soon  as  Christ  was  murdered.  If  an  age 
or  a  people  assume  that  any  notion  they  enter- 
tain is  certainly  right,  they  assume  their  own 
infallibility,  and  arrogantly  claim  for  them- 
selves a  prerogative  which  even  the  wisest  of 
mankind  never  possess.  To  affirm  that  a 
doctrine  is  unquestionably  revealed  from  above, 
is  equally  to  affirm  their  own  infallibility, 
since  they  affirm  that  they  cannot  be  mistaken 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


117 


in  believing  it  to  be  revealed.  A  man  who 
is  sure  that  his  creed  is  true,  is  sure  of  his  own 
infallibility,  because  he  is  sure  that  upon  that 
point  he  has  committed  no  error.  Unless, 
therefore,  we  are  prepared  to  claim,  on  our  own 
behalf,  an  immunity  from  error,  and  an  incapa- 
bility of  being  mistaken,  which  transcend  the 
limits  of  the  human  mind,  we  are  bound  not 
only  to  permit  our  opinions  to  be  disputed, 
but  to  be  grateful  to  those  who  will  do  so. 
For,  as  no  one  who  is  not  absurdly  and  im- 
modestly confident  of  his  own  powers,  can  be 
sure  that  what  he  believes  to  be  true  is  true,  it 
will  be  his  object,  if  he  be  an  honest  man, 
to  rectify  the  errors  he  may  have  committed. 
But  it  is  a  matter  of  history  that  errors  have 
only  been  rectified  by  two  means  ;  namely,  by 
experience  and  discussion.  The  use  of  discus- 
sion is  to  show  how  experience  is  to  be  inter- 
preted. Experience  alone,  has  never  improved 
either  mankind  or  individuals.  Experience,  be- 
fore it  can  be  available,  must  be  sifted  and  test- 
ed. This  is  done  by  discussion,  which  brings 
out  the  meaning  of  experience,  and  enables  us  to 
apply  the  observations  that  have  been  made, 
and  turn  them  to  account.    Human  judgment 


118 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


owes  its  value  solely  to  the  fact  that  when  it  is 
wrong  it  is  possible  to  set  it  right.  Inasmuch, 
however,  as  it  can  only  be  set  right  by  the  con- 
flict and  collision  of  hostile  opinions,  it  is  clear 
that  when  those  opinions  are  smothered,  and 
when  that  conflict  is  stopped,  the  means  of  cor- 
recting our  judgment  are  gone,  and  hence  the 
value  of  our  judgment  is  destroyed.  The 
more,  therefore,  that  the  majority  discourage 
the  opinions  of  the  minority,  the  smaller  is 
the  chance  of  the  majority  holding  accurate 
views.  But  if,  instead  of  discouraging  the 
opinions,  they  should  suppress  them,  even  that 
small  chance  is  taken  away,  and  society  can 
have  no  option  but  to  go  on  from  bad  to  worse, 
its  blunders  becoming  more  inveterate  and 
more  mischievous,  in  projitortion  as  that  liberty 
of  discussion  which  might  have  rectified  them 
has  been  the  longer  withheld. 

Here  we,  as  the  advocates  of  liberty,  might 
fairly  close  the  argument,  leaving  our  op- 
ponents in  the  dilemma  of  either  asserting  their 
own  infallibility,  or  else  of  abandoning  the 
idea  of  interfering  with  freedom  of  discussion. 
So  complete,  however,  is  our  case,  that  we 
can  actually  afford  to  dispense  with  what  has 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


119 


been  just  stated,  and  support  our  views  on 
other  and  totally  different  grounds.  We  will 
concede  to  those  who  favour  restriction,  all 
the  premises  that  they  require.  "We  will  con- 
cede to  them  the  strongest  position  that  they 
can  imagine,  and  we  will  take  for  granted  that 
a  nation  has  the  means  of  knowing  with  ab- 
solute certainty  that  some  of  its  opinions  are 
right.  We  say,  then,  and  we  will  prove,  that, 
assuming  these  opinions  to  be  true,  it  is  ad- 
visable that  they  should  be  combated,  and 
that  their  truth  should  be  denied.  That  an 
opinion  which  is  held  by  an  immense  majority, 
and  which  is  moreover  completely  and  un- 
qualifiedly true,  ought  to  be  contested,  and 
that  those  who  contest  it  do  a  public  service, 
appears  at  first  sight  to  be  an  untenable 
paradox.  A  paradox,  indeed,  it  is,  if  by  a 
paradox  we  mean  an  assertion  not  generally 
admitted ;  but,  so  far  from  being  untenable, 
it  is  a  sound  and  wholesome  doctrine,  which,  if 
it  were  adopted,  would,  to  an  extraordinary 
extent,  facilitate  the  progress  of  society. 

Supposing  any  well-established  opinion  to 
be  certainly  true,  the  result  of  its  not  being 
vigorously  attacked  is,  that  it  becomes  more 


120 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


passive  and  inert  than  it  would  otherwise  be. 
This,  as  Mr.  Mill  observes,  has  been  exemplified 
in  the  history  of  Christianity.  In  the  early 
Church,  while  Christianity  was  struggling 
against  innumerable  opponents,  it  displayed 
a  life  and  an  energy  which  diminished  in  pro- 
portion as  the  opposition  was  withdrawn 
When  an  enemy  is  at  the  gate,  the  garrison 
is  alert.  If  the  enemy  retires,  the  alertness 
slackens ;  and  if  he  disappears  altogether, 
nothing  remains  but  the  mere  forms  and  duty 
of  discipline,  which,  unenlivened  by  danger, 
grow  torpid  and  mechanical.  This  is  a  law 
of  the  human  mind,  and  is  of  universal  ap- 
plication. Every  religion,  after  being  estab- 
lished, loses  much  of  its  vitality.  Its  doctrines 
being  less  questioned,  it  naturally  happens  that 
those  who  hold  them,  scrutinize  them  less 
closely,  and  therefore  grasp  them  less  firmly. 
Their  wits  being  no  longer  sharpened  by  con- 
troversy, what  was  formerly  a  living  truth 
dwindles  into  a  dead  dogma.  The  excitement 
of  the  battle  being  over,  the  weapons  are  laid 
aside  ;  they  fall  into  disuse  ;  they  grow  rusty  ; 
the  skill  and  fire  in  the  warrior  are  gone.  It 
is  amid  the  roar  of  the  cannon,  the  flash  of 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


121 


the  bayonet,  and  the  clang  of  the  trumpet, 
that  the  forms  of  men  dilate ;  they  swell  with 
emotion ;  their  bulk  increases ;  their  stature 
rises,  and  even  small  natures  wax  into  great 
ones,  able  to  do  all  and  to  dare  all. 

So,  indeed,  it  is.  On  any  subject,  universal  ac- 
quiescence always  engenders  universal  apathy. 
By  a  parity  of  reasoning,  the  greater  the 
acquiescence  the  greater  the  apathy.  All  hail, 
therefore,  to  those  who,  by  attacking  a  truth, 
prevent  that  truth  from  slumbering.  All  hail 
to  those  bold  and  fearless  natures,  the  heretics 
and  innovators  of  the  day,  who,  rousing  men 
out  of  their  lazy  sleep,  sound  in  their  ears 
the  tocsin  and  the  clarion,  and  force  them  to 
come  forth  that  they  may  do  battle  for  their 
creed.  Of  all  evils,  torpor  is  the  most  deadly. 
Give  us  paradox,  give  us  error,  give  us  what  you 
will,  so  that  you  save  us  from  stagnation.  It  is 
the  cold  spirit  of  routine  which  is  the  nightshade 
of  our  nature.  It  sits  upon  men  like  a  blight, 
blunting  their  faculties,  withering  their  pow- 
ers, and  making  them  both  unable  and  unwill- 
ing either  to  struggle  for  the  truth,  or  to  figure 
to  themselves  what  it  is  that  they  really  believe. 

See  how  this  has  acted,  in  regard  to  the 
6 


122 


MILL  ON  LEBEETY. 


doctrines  of  the  New  Testament.  When  those 
doctrines  where  first  propounded,  they  were 
vigorously  assailed,  and  therefore  the  early 
Christians  clung  to  them,  realized  them,  and 
bound  them  up  in  their  hearts  to  an  extent 
unparalleled  in  any  subsequent  age.  Every 
Christian  professes  to  believe  that  it  is  good 
to  be  ill-used  and  buffeted  ;  that  wealth  is  an 
evil,  because  rich  men  cannot  enter  the  king- 
dom of  heaven ;  that  if  your  cloak  is  taken, 
you  must  give  your  coat  also  ;  that  if  you  are 
smitten  on  one  cheek,  you  should  turn  round 
and  offer  the  other.  These  and  similar  doc- 
trines, the  early  Christians  not  only  professed, 
but  acted  up  to  and  followed.  The  same 
doctrines  are  contained  in  our  Bibles,  read 
in  our  churches,  and  preached  in  our  pulpits. 
Who  is  there  that  obeys  them  ?  And  what 
reason  is  there  for  this  universal  defection, 
beyond  the  fact  that  when  Christianity  was 
constantly  assailed,  those  who  received  its 
tenets  held  them  with  a  tenacity  and  saw 
them  with  a  vividness  which  cannot  be  ex- 
pected in  an  age  that  sanctions  them  by  gen- 
eral acquiescence  ?  Now,  indeed,  they  are 
not  only  acquiesced  in,  they  are  also  watched 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


123 


over  and  sedulously  protected.  They  are  pro- 
tected by  law,  and  by  that  public  opinion 
which  is  infinitely  more  powerful  than  any 
law.  Hence  it  is,  that  to  them,  men  yield 
a  cold  and  lifeless  assent ;  they  hear  them  and 
they  talk  about  them,  but  whoever  was  to 
obey  them  with  that  scrupulous  fidelity  which 
was  formerly  practised,  would  find  to  his  cost 
how  much  he  had  mistaken  his  age,  and  how 
great  is  the  difference,  in  vitality  and  in  prac- 
tical effect,  between  doctrines  which  are  gen- 
erally received  and  those  which  are  fearlessly 
discussed. 

In  proportion  as  knowledge  has  advanced, 
and  habits  of  correct  thinking  been  diffused, 
men  have  gradually  approached  towards  these 
views  of  liberty,  though  Mr.  Mill  has  been 
the  first  to  bring  them  together  in  a  thoroughly 
comprehensive  spirit,  and  to  concentrate  in  a 
single  treatise  all  the  arguments  in  their  be- 
half. How  everything  has  long  tended  to  this 
result,  must  be  known  to  whoever  has  studied 
the  history  of  the  English  mind.  Whatever 
may  be  the  case  respecting  the  alleged  decline 
of  individuality,  and  the  increasing  tyranny 
of  custom,  there  can,  at  all  events,  be  no  doubt 


124 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


that,  in  religious  matters,  public  opinion  is 
constantly  becoming  more  liberal.  The  legal 
penalties  which  our  ignorant  and  intolerant 
ancestors  inflicted  upon  whoever  differed  from 
themselves,  are  now  some  of  them  repealed, 
and  some  of  them  obsolete.  Not  only  have 
we  ceased  to  murder  or  torture  those  who  dis- 
agree with  us,  but,  strange  to  say,  we  have 
even  recognized  their  claim  to  political  rights 
as  well  as  to  civil  equality.  The  admission 
of  the  Jews  into  Parliament,  that  just  and 
righteous  measure,  which  was  carried  in  the 
teeth  of  the  most  cherished  and  inveterate 
prejudice,  is  a  striking  proof  of  the  force  of 
the  general  movement ;  as  also  is  the  rapidly 
increasing  disposition  to  abolish  oaths,  and 
to  do  away  in  public  life  with  every  species 
of  religious  tests.  Partly  as  cause,  and  partly 
as  effect  of  all  this,  there  never  was  a  period 
in  which  so  many  bold  and  able  attacks  were 
made  upon  the  prevailing  theology,  and  in 
which  so  many  heretical  doctrines  were  pro- 
pounded, not  only  by  laymen,  but  occasionally 
by  ministers  of  the  church,  some  of  the  most 
eminent  of  whom  have,  during  the  present 
generation,  come   forward   to   denounce  the 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


125 


errors  in  their  own  system,  and  to  point  ont 
the  flaws  in  their  own  creed.  The  unorthodox 
character  of  physical  science  is  equally  no- 
torious ;  and  many  of  its  professors  do  not 
scruple  to  impeach  the  truth  of  statements 
which  are  still  held  to  be  essential,  and  which, 
in  other  days,  no  one  could  have  impugned 
without  exposing  himself  to  serious  danger. 
In  former  times,  such  men  would  have  been 
silenced  or  punished ;  now,  they  are  respected 
and  valued ;  their  works  are  eagerly  read, 
and  the  circle  of  their  influence  is  steadily 
widening.  According  to  the  letter  of  our 
law-books,  these,  and  similar  publications, 
which  fearless  and  inquisitive  men  are  pour- 
ing into  the  public  ear,  are  illegal,  and  Govern- 
ment has  the  power  of  prosecuting  their 
authors.  The  state  of  opinion,  however,  is 
so  improved,  that  such  prosecutions  would 
be  fatal  to  any  Government  which  instigated 
them.  We  have,  therefore,  every  reason  to 
congratulate  ourselves  on  having  outlived  the 
reign  of  open  persecution.  Wg  may  fairly 
suppose  that  the  cruelties  which  our  fore- 
fathers committed  in  the  name  of  religion, 
could  not  now  be  perpetrated,  and  that  it 


126 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


would  be  impossible  to  punish  a  man  merely 
because  lie  expressed  notions  which  the  ma- 
jority considered  to  be  profane  and  mis- 
chievous. 

Under  these  circumstances,  and  seeing  that 
the  practice  of  prosecuting  men  for  uttering 
their  sentiments  on  religious  matters  has  been 
for  many  years  discontinued,  an  attempt  to 
revive  that  shameful  custom  would,  if  it  were 
generally  known,  be  at  once  scouted.  It 
would  be  deemed  unnatural  as  well  as  cruel : 
out  of  the  ordinary  course,  and  wholly  un- 
suited  to  the  humane  and  liberal  notions  of 
an  age  which  seeks  to  relax  penalties  rather 
than  to  multiply  them.  As  to  the  man  who 
might  be  mad  enough  to  make  the  attempt, 
we  should  look  upon  him  in  the  light  in 
which  we  should  regard  some  noxious  animal, 
which,  being  suddenly  let  loose,  went  about 
working  harm,  and  undoing  all  the  good  that 
had  been  previously  done.  "We  should  hold 
him  to  be  a  nuisance  which  it  was  our  duty 
either  to  abate,  or  to  warn  people  of.  To  us, 
he  would  be  a  sort  of  public  enemy ;  a 
disturber  of  human  happiness ;  a  creature 
hostile  to  the  human  species.    If  he  possessed 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


127 


authority,  we  should  loathe  him  the  more, 
as  one  who,  instead  of  employing  for  the 
benefit  of  his  country  the  power  with  which 
his  country  had  entrusted  him,  used  it  to 
gratify  his  own  malignant  prejudices,  or 
maybe  to  humour  the  spleen  of  some  wretched 
and  intolerant  faction  with  which  he  was 
connected. 

Inasmuch,  therefore,  as,  in  the  present 
state  of  English  society,  any  punishment  in- 
flicted for  the  use  of  language  which  did  not 
tend  to  break  the  public  peace,  and  which 
was  neither  seditious  in  reference  to  the  State, 
nor  libellous  in  reference  to  individuals,  would 
be  simply  a  wanton  cruelty,  alien  to  the 
genius  of  our  time,  and  capable  of  producing 
no  effect  beyond  reviving  intolerance,  exas- 
perating the  friends  of  liberty,  and  bringing 
the  administration  of  justice  into  disrepute, 
it  was  with  the  greatest  astonishment  that 
I  read  in  Mr.  Mill's  work  that  such  a  thing 
had  occurred  in  this  country,  and  at  one  of 
our  asssizes,  less  than  two  years  ago.  Not- 
withstanding my  knowledge  of  Mr.  Mill's  ac- 
curacy, I  thought  that,  in  this  instance,  he 
must  have  been  mistaken.    I  supposed  that 


128 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


lie  had  not  heard  all  the  circumstances,  and 
that  the  person  punished  had  been  guilty  of 
some  other  offence.  I  could  not  believe  that 
in  the  year  1857,  th,ere  was  a  judge  on  the 
English  bench  who  would  sentence  a  poor 
man  of  irreproachable  character,  of  industrious 
habits,  and  supporting  his  family  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brow,  to  twenty-one  months'  imprison- 
ment, merely  because  he  had  uttered  and 
written  on  a  gate  a  few  words  respecting 
Christianity.  Even  now,  when  I  have  carefully 
investigated  the  facts  to  which  Mr.  Mill  only 
alludes,  and  have  the  documents  before  me, 
I  can  hardly  bring  myself  to  realize  the  events 
which  have  actually  occurred,  and  which 
I  will  relate,  in  order  that  public  opinion 
may  take  cognizance  of  a  transaction  which 
happened  in  a  remote  part  of  the  kingdom, 
but  which  the  general  welfare  requires  to 
be  bruited  abroad,  so  that  men  may  determine 
whether  or  not  such  things  shall  be  allowed. 

In  the  summer  of  1857,  a  poor  man  named 
Thomas  Polley,  was  gaining  his  livelihood  as 
a  common  labourer  in  Liskeard,  in  Cornwall, 
where  he  had  been  well  known  for  several 
years,  and  had  always  borne  a  high  character 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY.  129 

for  honesty,  industry,  and  sobriety.  His 
habits  were  so  eccentric,  that  his  mind  was 
justly  reputed  to  be  disordered  ;  and  an  ac- 
cident which  happened  to  him  about  two 
years  before  this  period,  had  evidently  in- 
flicted some  serious  injury,  as  since  then  his 
demeanour  had  become  more  strange  and 
excitable.  Still,  he  was  not  only  perfectly 
harmless,  but  was  a  yery  useful  member  of 
society,  respected  by  his  neighbours,  and  loved 
by  his  family,  for  whom  he  toiled  with  a 
zeal  rare  in  his  class,  or  indeed  in  any  class. 
Among  other  hallucinations,  he  believed  that 
the  earth  was  a  living  animal,  and,  in  his 
ordinary  employment  of  well-sinking,  he 
avoided  digging  too  deeply,  lest  he  should 
penetrate  the  skin  of  the  earth,  and  wound 
some  vital  part.  He  also  imagined  that  if 
he  hurt  the  earth,  the  tides  would  cease  to 
flow ;  and  that  nothing  being  really  mortal, 
whenever  a  child  died  it  reappeared  at  the 
next  birth  in  the  same  family.  Holding  all 
nature  to  be  animated,  he  moreover  fancied 
that  this  was  in  some  way  connected  with 
the  potato-rot,  and,  in  the  wildness  of  his 
vagaries,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  if 
6* 


130 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


the  ashes  of  burnt  Bibles  were  strewed  over 
the  fields,  the  rot  would  cease.  This  was 
associated,  in  his  mind,  with  a  foolish  dislike 
of  the  Bible  itself,  and  an  hostility  against 
Christianity ;  in  reference,  however,  to  which 
he  could  hurt  no  one,  as  not  only  was  he 
very  ignorant,  but  his  neighbours,  regarding 
him  as  crack-brained,  were  uninfluenced  by 
him ;  though  in  the  other  relations  of  life 
he  was  valued  and  respected  by  his  employers, 
and  indeed  by  all  who  were  most  acquainted 
with  his  disposition. 

This  singular  man,  who  was  known  by  the 
additional  peculiarity  of  wearing  a  long  beard, 
wrote  upon  a  gate  a  few  very  silly  words  ex- 
pressive of  his  opinion  respecting  the  potato-rot 
and  the  Bible,  and  also  of  his  hatred  of  Chris- 
tianity. For  this,  as  well  as  for  using  lan- 
guage equally  absurd,  but  which  no  one  was 
obliged  to  listen  to,  and  which  certainly  could 
influence  no  one,  a  clergyman  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood lodged  an  information  against  him, 
and  caused  him  to  be  summoned  before  a 
magistrate,  who  was  likewise  a  clergyman. 
The  magistrate,  instead  of  pitying  him  or 
remonstrating  with  him,  committed  him  for 


MILL  ON  LIBEKTY. 


131 


trial  and  sent  him  to  jail.  At  the  next  assizes, 
he  was  brought  before  the  judge.  He  had 
no  counsel  to  defend  him,  but  the  son  of  the 
judge  acted  as  counsel  to  prosecute  him. 
The  father  and  the  son  performed  their  parts 
with  zeal,  and  were  perfectly  successful. 
Under  their  auspices,  Pooley  was  found  guilty. 
;He  was  brought  up  for  judgment.  When 
addressed  by  the  judge,  his  restless  manner, 
his  wild  and  incoherent  speech,  his  disordered 
countenance  and  glaring  eye,  betokened  too 
surely  the  disease  of  his  mind.  But  neither 
this,  nor  the  fact  that  he  was  ignorant,  poor, 
and  friendless,  produced  any  effect  upon  that 
stony-hearted  man  who  now  held  him  in 
his  gripe.  He  was  sentenced  to  be  imprisoned 
for  a  year  and  nine  months.  The  interests 
of  religion  were  vindicated.  Christianity 
was  protected,  and  her  triumph  assured,  by 
dragging  a  poor,  harmless  and  demented  crea- 
ture from  the  bosom  of  his  family,  throwing 
him  into  jail,  and  leaving  his  wife  and  children 
without  provision,  either  to  starve  or  to  beg. 

Before  he  had  been  many  days  in  prison, 
the  insanity  which  was  obvious  at  the  time 
of  his  trial,  ceased  to  lurk,  and  broke  out  into 


132 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


acts  of  violence.  He  grew  worse  ;  and  within 
a  fortnight  after  the  sentence  had  been  pro- 
nounced he  went  mad,  and  it  was  found 
necessary  to  remove  him  from  the  jail  to  the 
County  Lunatic  Asylum.  While  he  was 
lying  there,  his  misfortunes  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  a  few  high-minded  and  benevolent 
men,  who  exerted  themselves  to  procure  his 
pardon ;  so  that,  if  he  recovered,  he  might  be 
restored  to  his  family.  This  petition  was 
refused.  It  was  necessary  to  support  the 
judge ;  and  the  petitioners  were  informed 
that  if  the  miserable  lunatic  should  regain 
his  reason,  he  would  be  sent  back  to  prison 
to  undergo  the  rest  of  his  sentence.  This, 
in  all  probability,  would  have  caused  a  relapse ; 
but  little  was  thought  of  that ;  and  it  was 
hoped  that,  as  he  was  an  obscure  and  humble 
man,  the  efforts  made  in  his  behalf  would 
soon  subside.  Those,  however,  who  had  once 
interested  themselves  in  such  a  case,  were 
not  likely  to  slacken  their  zeal.  The  cry 
grew  hotter,  and  preparations  were  made  for 
bringing  the  whole  question  before  the  country. 
Then  it  was  that  the  authorities  gave  way. 
Happily  for  mankind,  one  vice  is  often  bal- 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


133 


anced  by  another,  and  cruelty  is  corrected 
by  cowardice.  The  authors  and  abettors 
of  tins  prodigious  iniquity  trembled  at  the 
risk  they  would  run  if  the  public  feeling  of 
this  great  country  were  roused.  The  result 
was,  that  the  proceedings  of  the  judge  were 
rescinded,  as  far  as  possible,  by  a  pardon 
being  granted  to  Pooley  less  than  five  months 
after  the  sentence  was  pronounced. 

By  this  means,  general  exposure  was 
avoided ;  and  perhaps  that  handful  of  noble- 
minded  men  who  obtained  the  liberation  of 
Pooley,  were  right  in  letting  the  matter  fall 
into  oblivion  after  they  had  carried  their 
point.  Most  of  them  were  engaged  in  political 
or  other  practical  affairs,  and  they  were,  there- 
fore, obliged  to  consider  expediency  as  well 
as  justice.  But  such  is.  not  the  case  with 
the  historian  of  this  sad  event.  No  writer 
on  important  subjects  has  reason  to  expect 
that  he  can  work  real  good,  or  that  his  words 
shall  live,  if  he  allows  himself  to  be  so 
trammelled  by  expediency  as  to  postpone 
to  it  considerations  of  right,  of  justice,  and 
of  truth.  A  great  crime  has  been  committed, 
and  the  names  of  the  criminals  ought  to  be 


134 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


known.  They  should  be  in  every  one's  month. 
They  should  be  blazoned  abroad,  in  order 
that  the  world  may  see  that  in  a  free  country 
such  things  cannot  be  done  with  impunity. 
To  discourage  a  repetition  of  the  offence  the 
offenders  must  be  punished.  And,  surely,  no 
punishment  can  be  more  severe  than  to  pre- 
serve their  names.  Against  them  personally, 
I  have  nothing  to  object,  for  I  have  no 
knowledge  of  them.  Individually,  I  can  feel 
no  animosity  towards  men  who  have  done 
me  no  harm,  and  whom  I  have  never  seen. 
But  they  have  violated  principles  dearer  to 
me  than  any  personal  feeling,  and  in  vindi- 
cation of  which  I  would  set  all  personal  feel- 
ing at  nought.  Fortunate,  indeed,  it  is  for 
humanity  that  our  minds  are  constructed  after 
such  a  fashion  as  to  make  it  impossible  for 
us,  by  any  effort  of  abstract  reasoning,  to 
consider  oppression  apart  from  the  oppressor. 
We  may  abhor  a  speculative  principle,  and 
yet  respect  him  who  advocates  it.  This  dis- 
tinction between  the  opinion  and  the  person 
is,  however,  confined  to  the  intellectual  world, 
and  does  not  extend  to  the  practical.  Such 
a  separation  cannot  exist  in  regard  to  actual 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


135 


deeds  of  cruelty.  In  such  cases,  our  passions 
instruct  our  understanding.  The  same  cause 
which  excites  our  sympathy  for  the  oppressed, 
stirs  up  our  hatred  of  the  oppressor.  This 
is  an  instinct  of  our  nature,  and  he  who 
struggles  against  it  does  so  to  his  own  detri- 
ment. It  belongs  to  the  higher  region  of 
the  mind ;  it  is  not  to  be  impeached  by 
argument ;  it  cannot  even  be  touched  by  it. 
Therefore  it  is,  that  when  we  hear  that  a  poor, 
a  defenceless,  and  a  half-witted  man,  who 
had  hurt  no  one,  a  kind  father,  an  affectionate 
husband,  whose  private  character  was  un- 
blemished, and  whose  integrity  was  beyond  dis- 
pute, is  suddenly  thrown  into  prison,  his  family 
left  to  subsist  on  the  precarious  charity  of  stran- 
gers, he  himself  by  this  cruel  treatment  deprived 
of  the  little  reason  he  possessed,  then  turned  into 
a  mad-house,  and  finally  refused  such  scanty  re- 
dress as  might  have  been  accorded  him,  a  spirit 
of  vehement  indignation  is  excited,  partly,  in- 
deed, against  a  system  under  which  such  things 
can  be  done ;  but  still  more  against  those 
who,  in  the  pride  of  their  power  and  wicked- 
ness of  their  hearts,  put  laws  into  execution 
which  had  long  fallen  into  disuse,  and  which 


136 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


they  were  not  bound  to  enforce,  but  of  which 
they  availed  themselves  to  crush  the  victim 
they  held  in  their  grasp. 

The  prosecutor  who  lodged  the  information 
against  Pooley,  and  had  him  brought  before 
the  magistrate,  was  the  Rev.  Paul  Bush. 
The  magistrate  who  received  the  information, 
and  committed  him  for  trial,  was  the  Pev. 
James  Glencross.  The  judge  who  passed  the 
sentence  which  destroyed  his  reason  and  beg- 
gared his  family,  was  Mr.  Justice  Coleridge. 

Of  the  two  first,  little  need  be  said.  It  is 
to  be  hoped  that  their  names  will  live,  and 
that  they  will  enjoy  that  sort  of  fame  which 
they  have  amply  earned.  Perhaps,  after  all, 
we  should  rather  blame  the  state  of  society 
which  concedes  power  to  such  men,  than 
wonder  that  having  the  power  they  should 
abuse  it.  But,  with  Mr.  Justice  Coleridge 
we  have  a  different  account  to  settle,  and  to 
him  other  language  must  be  applied.  That 
our  judges  should  have  great  authority  is 
unavoidable.  To  them,  a  wide  and  discre- 
tionary latitude  is  necessarily  entrusted.  Great 
confidence  being  reposed  in  them,  they  are 
bound  by  every  possible  principle  which  can 


MILL  ON  LIBEKTY. 


137 


actuate  an  honest  man,  to  respect  that  con- 
fidence. They  are  bound  to  avoid  not  only 
injustice,  but,  so  far  as  they  can,  the  very 
appearance  of  injustice.  Seeing,  as  they  do, 
all  classes  of  society,  they  are  well  aware  that, 
among  the  lower  ranks,  there  is  a  deep, 
though  on  the  whole  a  diminishing,  belief 
that  the  poor  are  ill-treated  by  the  rich,  and 
that  even  in  the  courts  of  law  equal  measure 
is  not  always  meted  out  to  both.  An  opinion 
of  this  sort  is  full  of  danger,  and  it  is  the 
more  dangerous  because  it  is  not  unfounded. 
The  country  magistrates  are  too  often  unfair  in 
their  decisions,  and  this  will  always  be  the 
case  until  greater  publicity  is  given  to  their 
proceedings.  But,  from  our  superior  judges 
we  expect  another  sort  of  conduct.  "We  ex- 
pect, and  it  must  honestly  be  said  we  usually 
find,  that  they  shall  be  above  petty  prejudices, 
or  at  all  events,  that  whatever  private  opinions 
they  may  have,  they  shall  not  intrude  those 
opinions  into  the  sanctuary  of  justice.  Above 
all  do  we  expect  that  they  shall  not  ferret 
out  some  obsolete  law  for  the  purpose  of  op- 
pressing the  poor,  when  they  know  right  well 
that  the  anti-Christian  sentiments  which  that 


138 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


law  was  intended  to  punish  are  quite  as  com- 
mon among  the  upper  classes  as  among  the 
lower,  and  are  participated  in  by  many  persons 
who  enjoy  the  confidence  of  the  country  and 
to  whom  the  highest  offices  are  entrusted. 

That  this  is  the  case,  was  known  in  the  year 
1857  to  Mr.  Justice  Coleridge,  just  as  it  was 
then  known,  and  is  now  known,  to  every 
one  who  mixes  in  the  world.  The  charge, 
therefore,  which  I  bring  against  this  unjust 
and  unrighteous  judge  is,  that  he  passed  a 
sentence  of  extreme  severity  upon  a  poor  and 
friendless  man  in  a  remote  part  of  the  king- 
dom, where  he  might  reasonably  expect  that 
his  sentence  would  escape  public  animad- 
version ;  that  he  did  this  by  virtue  of  a  law 
which  had  fallen  into  disuse,  and  was  con- 
trary to  the  spirit  of  the  age  ;*  and  that 
he  would  not  have  dared  to  commit  such  an 
act,  in  the  face  of  a  London  audience,  and 
in  the  full  light  of  the  London  press.  Neither 

*  Or  rather  b}T  virtue  of  the  cruel  and  persecuting  maxims 
of  our  old  Common  Law,  established  at  a  period  when  it  was  a 
matter  of  religion  to  burn  heretics  and  to  drown  witches.  Why 
did  not  such  a  judge  live  three  hundred  years  ago  ?  He  has 
fallen  upon  evil  times  and  has  come  too  late  into  the  world. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


139 


would  he,  nor  those  who  supported  him,  have 
treated  in  such  a  manner  a  person  belonging 
to  the  upper  classes.  No.  They  select  the 
most  inaccessible  county  in  England,  where 
the  press  is  least  active  and  the  people  are 
most  illiterate,  and  there  .they  pounce  upon 
a  defenceless  man  and  make  him  the  scape- 
goat. He  is  to  be  the  victim  whose  vicarious 
sufferings  may  atone  for  the  offences  of  more 
powerful  unbelievers.  Hardly  a  year  goes 
by,  without  some  writer  of  influence  and 
ability  attacking  Christianity,  and  every  such 
attack  is  punishable  by  law.  "Why  did  not 
Mr.  Justice  Coleridge,  and  those  who  think 
like  him,  put  the  law  into  force  against  those 
writers  ?  Why  do  they  not  do  it  now  ?  Why 
do  they  not  have  the  learned  and  the  eminent 
indicted  and  thrown  into  prison  ?  Simply 
because  they  dare  not.  I  defy  them  to  it. 
They  are  afraid  of  the  odium ;  they  tremble 
at  the  hostility  they  would  incur  and  at  the 
scorn  which  would  be  heaped  upon  them, 
both  by  their  contemporaries  and  by  posterity. 
Happily  for  mankind,  literature  is  a  real 
power,  and  tyranny  quakes  at  it.  But  to 
me  it  appears,  that  men  of  letters  perform 


110  MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 

the  least  part  of  their  duty  when  they  defend 
each  other.  It  is  their  proper  function,  and 
it  ought  to  be  their  glory,  to  defend  the  weak 
against  the  strong,  and  to  uphold  the  poor 
against  the  rich.  This  should  be  their  pride 
and  their  honour.  I  would  it  were  known  in 
every  cottage,  that  the  intellectual  classes 
sympathize,  not  with  the  upper  ranks,  but 
with  the  lower.  I  would  that  we  made  the 
freedom  of  the  people  our  first  consideration. 
Then,  indeed,  would  literature  be  the  religion 
of  liberty,  and  we,  priests  of  the  altar,  minis- 
tering her  sacred  rites,  might  feel  that  we 
act  in  the  purest  spirit  of  our  creed  when 
we  denounce  tyranny  in  high  places,  when 
we  chastise  the  insolence  of  office,  and  when  we 
vindicate  the  cause  of  Thomas  Pooley  against 
Justice  Coleridge. 

For  my  part,  I  can  honestly  say  that  I 
have  nothing  exaggerated,  nor  set  down  aught 
in  malice.  What  the  verdict  of  public  opinion 
may  be,  I  cannot  tell.  I  speak  merely  as  a 
man  of  letters,  and  do  not  pretend  to  represent 
any  class.  I  have  no  interest  to  advocate ;  I 
hold  no  brief ;  I  carry  no  man's  proxy.  But 
unless  I  altogether  mistake  the  general  feeling, 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


141 


it  will  be  considered  that  a  great  crime  has 
been  committed ;  that  a  knowledge  of  that 
crime  has  been  too  long  hidden  in  a  corner ; 
and  that  I  have  clone  something  towards 
dragging  the  criminal  from  his  covert,  and 
letting  in  on  him  the  full  light  of  day. 

This  gross  iniquity  is,  no  doubt,  to  be  im- 
mediately ascribed  to  the  cold  heart  and  shal- 
low understanding  of  the  judge  by  whom  it 
was  perpetrated.  If,  however,  public  opinion 
had  been  sufficiently  enlightened,  those  evil 
qualities  would  have  been  restrained  and  ren- 
dered unable  to  work  the  mischief.  There- 
fore it  is,  that  the  safest  and  most  permanent 
remedy  would  be  to  diffuse  sound  notions 
respecting  the  liberty  of  speech  and  of  publi- 
cation. It  should  be  clearly  understood  that 
every  man  has  an  absolute  and  irrefragable 
right  to  treat  any  doctrine  as  he  thinks  proper ; 
either  to  argue  against  it,  or  to  ridicule  it. 
If  his  arguments  are  wrong,  he  can  be  re- 
futed ;  if  his  ridicule  is  foolish,  he  can  be 
out-ridiculed.  To  this,  there  can  be  no  ex- 
ception. It  matters  not  what  the  tenet  may 
be,  nor  how  dear  it  is  to  our  feelings.  Like 
all  other  opinions,  it  must  take  its  chance ; 


142 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


it  must  be  roughly  used ;  it  must  stand  every 
test ;  it  must  be  thoroughly  discussed  and 
sifted.  And  we  may  rest  assured  that  if  it 
really  be  a  great  and  valuable  truth,  such 
opposition  will  endear  it  to  us  the  more  ;  and 
that  we  shall  cling  to  it  the  closer,  in  pro- 
portion as  it  is  argued  against,  aspersed,  and 
attempted  to  be  overthrown. 

If  I  were  asked  for  an  instance  of  the  ex- 
treme latitude  to  which  such  licence  might 
be  extended,  I  would  take  what,  in  my  judg- 
ment, at  least,  is  the  most  important  of  all 
doctrines,  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state. 
Strictly  speaking,  there  is,  in  the  present  early 
condition  of  the  human  mind,  no  subject  on 
which  we  can  arrive  at  complete  certainty ; 
but  the  belief  in  a  future  state  approaches 
that  certainty  nearer  than  any  other  belief, 
and  it  is  one  which,  if  eradicated,  would 
drive  most  of  us  to  despair.  On  both  these 
grounds,  it  stands  alone.  It  is  fortified  by 
arguments  far  stronger  than  can  be  adduced 
in  support  of  any  other  opinion  ;  and  it  is  a 
supreme  consolation  to  those  who  suffer  afflic- 
tion, or  smart  under  a  sense  of  injustice.  The 
attempts  made  to   impugn  it,  have  always 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


143 


seemed  to  me  to  be  very  weak,  and  to  leave 
the  real  difficulties  untouched.  They  are  nega- 
tive arguments  directed  against  affirmative 
ones.  But  if,  in  transcendental  inquiries, 
negative  arguments  are  to  satisfy  us,  how 
shall  we  escape  from  the  reasonings  of  Berke- 
ley respecting  the  non-existence  of  the  ma- 
terial world?  Those  reasonings  have  never 
been  answered,  and  our  knowledge  must  be 
infinitely  more  advanced  than  it  now  is,  before 
they  can  be  answered.  They  are  far  stronger 
than  the  arguments  of  the  atheists ;  and  I 
cannot  but  wonder  that  they  who  reject  a 
future  state,  should  believe  in  the  reality  of 
the  material  world.  Still,  those  who  do  reject 
it,  are  not  only  justified  in  openly  denying  it, 
but  are  bound  to  do  so.  Our  first  and  para- 
mount duty  is  to  be  true  to  ourselves ;  and  no 
man  is  true  to  himself  who  fears  to  express 
his  opinion.  There  is  hardly  any  vice  which 
so  debases  us  in  our  own  esteem,  as  moral 
cowardice.  There  is  hardly  any  virtue  which 
so  elevates  our  character,  as  moral  courage. 
Therefore  it  is,  that  the  more  unpopular  a 
notion,  the  greater  the  merit  of  him  who  ad- 
vocates it,  provided,  of  course,  he  does  so  in 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


honesty  and  singleness  of  heart.  On  this  ac- 
count, although  I  regard  the  expectation  of 
another  life  as  the  prop  and  mainstay  of 
mankind,  and  although  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing that  they  who  reject  it  have  taken  an 
imperfect  and  uncomprehensive  view,  and  have 
not  covered  the  whole  field  of  inquiry,  I  do 
strenuously  maintain,  that  against  it  every 
species  of  attack  is  legitimate,  and  I  feel  as- 
sured that  the  more  it  is  assailed,  the  more 
it  will  flourish,  and  the  more  vividly  we  shall 
realize  its  meaning,  its  depth,  and  its  necessity. 

That  many  of  the  common  arguments  in 
favour  of  this  great  doctrine  are  unsound, 
might  be  easily  shown  ;  but,  until  the  entire 
subject  is  freely  discussed,  we  shall  never  know 
how  far  they  are  unsound,  and  what  part  of 
them  ought  to  be  retained.  If,  for  instance, 
we  make  our  belief  in  it  depend  upon  asser- 
tions contained  in  books  regarded  as  sacred, 
it  will  follow  that  whenever  those  books  lose 
their  influence  the  doctrine  will  be  in  peril. 
The  basis  being  impaired,  the  superstructure 
will  tremble.  It  may  well  be  that,  in  the 
march  of  ages,  every  definite  and  written  creed 
now  existing  is  destined  to  die  out,  and  to  be 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY.  145 

succeeded  by  better  ones.     The  world  has 
been  the  -beginning  of  them,  and  we  have  no 
surety  that  it  will  not  see  the  end  of  them. 
Everything  which  is  essential  to  the  human 
mind  must  survive  all  the  shocks  and  vicissi- 
tudes of  time  ;  but  dogmas,  which  the  mind 
once  did  without,  cannot  be  essential  to  it. 
Perhaps,  we  have  no  right  so  to  anticipate 
the  judgment  of  our  remotest  posterity,  as  to 
affirm  that  any  opinion  is   essential  to  all 
possible  forms   of  civilization ;    but,  at  all 
events,  we  have  more  reason  to  believe  this 
of  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  than  of  any 
other  conceivable  idea.    Let  us  then  beware 
of  endangering  its  stability  by  narrowing  its 
foundation.    Let  us  take  heed  how  we  rest  it 
on  the  testimony  of  inspired  writings,  when 
we  know  that  inspiration  at  one  epoch  is  often 
different  from  inspiration  at  another.    If  Chris- 
tianity should  ever  perish,  the  age  that  loses 
it.  will  have  reason  to  deplore  the  blindness 
of  those  who  teach  mankind  to  defend  this 
glorious  and  consolatory  tenet,  not  by  general 
considerations  of  the  fundamental  properties 
of  our  common  .nature,  but  by  traditions,  as- 
sertions, and  records,  which  do  not  bear  the 

7 


146 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


stamp  of  universality,  since  in  one  state  of 
society  they  are  held  to  be  true,  and  in  another 
state  of  society  they  are  held  to  be  false. 

Of  the  same  fluctuating  and  precarious 
character,  is  the  argument  drawn  from  the 
triumph  of  injustice  in  this  world,  and  the 
consequent  necessity  of  such  unfairness  being 
remedied  in  another  life.  For,  it  admits  of 
historical  proof  that,  as  civilization  advances, 
the  impunity  and  rewards  of  wickedness  di- 
minish. In  a  barbarous  state  of  society,  virtue 
is  invariably  trampled  upon,  and  nothing  really 
succeeds  except  violence  or  fraud.  In  that 
stage  of  affairs,  the  worst  criminals  are  the 
most  prosperous  men.  But  in  every  succeed- 
ing step  of  the  great  progress,  injustice  be- 
comes more  hazardous  ;  force  and  rapine  grow 
more  unsafe  ;  precautions  multiply  ;  the  super- 
vision is  keener ;  tyranny  and  deceit  are 
oftener  detected.  Being  oftener  detected,  it 
is  less  profitable  to  practise  them.  In  the 
same  proportion,  the  rewards  of  integrity  in- 
crease, and  the  prospects  of  virtue  brighten. 
A  large  part  of  the  power,  the  honour,  and 
the  fame  formerly  possessed  by  evil  men 
is  transferred  to  good  men.    Acts  of  injus- 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


147 


tice  which  at  an  earlier  period  would  have 
escaped  attention,  or,  if  known,  would  have 
excited  no  odium,  are  now  chastised,  not  only 
by  law,  but  also  by  public  opinion.  Indeed, 
so  marked  is  this  tendency,  that  many  per- 
sons, by  a  singular  confusion  of  thought,  ac- 
tually persuade  themselves  that  offences  are 
increasing  because  we  hear  more  of  them, 
and  punish  them  oftener ;  not  seeing  that  this 
merely  proves  that  we  note  them  more  and 
hate  them  more.  We  redouble  our  efforts 
against  inj  nstice,  not  on  account  of  the  spread 
of  injustice,  but  on  account  of  our  better  under- 
standing how  to  meet  it,  and  being  more  de- 
termined to  coerce  it.  No  other  age  has  ever 
cried  out  against  it  so  loudly  ;  and  yet,  strange 
to  say,  this  very  proof  of  our  superiority  to 
all  other  ages  is  cited  as  evidence  of  our  in- 
feriority. This,  I  shall  return  to  elsewhere ; 
my  present  object  in  mentioning  it,  is  partly 
to  check  a  prevailing  error,  but  chiefly  to 
indicate  its  connexion  with  the  subject  before 
us.  Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that,  as 
society  advances,  the  weak  are  better  protected 
against  the  strong ;  the  honest  against  the 
dishonest ;  and  the  just  against  the  unjust.  If, 


148 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


then,  we  adopt  the  popular  argument  in  favour 
of  another  life,  that  injustice  here,  must  be 
compensated  hereafter,  we  are  driven  to  the 
terrible  conclusion  that  the  same  progress  of 
civilization,  which,  in  this  world,  heightens 
the  penalties  inflicted  on  injustice,  would  also 
lessen  the  need  of  future  compensation,  and 
thereby  weaken  the  ground  of  our  belief.  The 
inference  would  be  untrue,  but  it  follows  from 
the  premises.  To  me  it  appears  not  only  sad, 
but  extremely  pernicious,  that  on  a  topic  of 
such  surpassing  interest,  the  understandings 
of  men  should  be  imposed  upon  by  reasonings 
which  are  so  shallow,  that,  if  pushed  to  their 
legitimate  consequence,  they  would  defeat  their 
own  aim,  because  they  would  force  us  to 
assert  that  the  more  we  improve  in  our  moral 
conduct  towards  each  other,  the  less  we  should 
care  for  a  future  and  a  better  world. 

I  have  brought  forward  these  views  for 
the  sake  of  justifying  the  general  proposition 
maintained  in  this  essay.  For,  it  is  evident 
that  if  the  state  of  public  opinion  did  not 
discourage  a  fearless  investigation  of  these 
matters,  and  did  not  foolishly  cast  a  slur  upon 
those  who  attack  doctrines  which  are  dear 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


149 


to  us,  the  whole  subject  would  be  more  thor- 
oughly understood,  and  such  weak  arguments 
as  are  commonly  advanced  would  have  been 
long  since  exploded.  If  they  who  deny  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  could,  without  the 
least  opprobrium,  state  in  the  boldest  man- 
ner all  their  objections,  the  advocates  of  the 
doctrine  would  be  obliged  to  reconsider  their 
own  position,  and  to  abandon  its  untenable 
points.  By  this  means,  that  which  I  revere, 
and  which  an  overwhelming  majority  of  us 
revere,  as  a  glorious  truth,  would  be  im- 
mensely strengthened.  It  would  be  strength- 
ened by  being  deprived  of  those  sophistical 
arguments  which  are  commonly  urged  in  its 
favour,  and  which  give  to  its  enemies  an  in- 
calculable advantage.  It  would,  moreover, 
be  strengthened  by  that  feeling  of  security 
which  men  have  in  their  own  convictions, 
when  they  know  that  everything  is  said 
against  them  which  can  be  said,  and  that 
their  opponents  have  a  fair  and  liberal  hear- 
ing. This  begets  a  magnanimity,  and  a  ra- 
tional confidence,  which  cannot  otherwise  be 
obtained.  But,  such  results  can  never  happen 
while  we  are  so  timid,  or  so  dishonest,  as  to 


150 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


impute  improper  motives  to  those  who  assail 
our  religious  opinions.  We  may  rely  upon 
it  that  as  long  as  we  look  upon  an  atheistical 
writer  as  a  moral  offender,  or  even  as  long  as 
we  glance  at  him  with  suspicion,  atheism 
will  remain  a  standing  and  a  permanent  dan- 
ger, because,  skulking  in  hidden  corners,  it 
will  use  stratagems  which  their  secresy  will 
prevent  us  from  baffling ;  it  will  practise 
artifices  to  which  the  persecuted  are  forced 
to  resort ;  it  will  number  its  concealed  prose- 
lytes to  an  extent  of  which  only  they  who 
have  studied  this  painful  subject  are  aware ; 
and,  above  all,  by  enabling  them  to  complain 
of  the  treatment  to  which  they  are  exposed, 
it  will  excite  the  sympathy  of  many  high  and 
generous  natures  who,  in  an  open  and  manly 
warfare,  might  strive  against  them,  but  who 
by  a  noble  instinct,  find  themselves  incapable 
of  contending  with  any  sect  which  is  oppressed, 
maligned,  or  intimidated. 

Though  this  essay  has  been  prolonged 
much  beyond  my  original  intention,  I  am  un- 
willing to  conclude  it  just  at  this  point,  when 
I  have  attacked  arguments  which  support  a 
doctrine  that  I  cherish  above  all  other  doc- 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


151 


trines.  It  is,  indeed,  certain  that  lie  who 
destroys  a  feeble  argument  in  favour  of  any 
truth,  renders  the  geatest  service  to  that 
truth,  by  obliging  its  advocates  to  produce 
a  stronger  one.  Still,  an  idea  will  prevail 
among  some  persons  that  such  service  is  in- 
sidious ;  and  that  to  expose  the  weak  side  of 
a  cause,  is  likely  to  be  the  work,  not  of  a 
friend  but  of  an  enemy  in  disguise.  Partly, 
therefore,  to  prevent  misinterpretation  from 
those  who  are  always  ready  to  misinterpret, 
and  partly  for  the  satisfaction  of  more  candid 
readers,  I  will  venture  to  state  what  I  ap- 
prehend to  be  the  safest  and  most  impreg- 
nable ground  on  which  the  supporters  of  this 
great  doctrine  can  take  their  stand. 

That  ground  is  the  universality  of  the 
affections  ;  the  yearning  of  every  mind  to  care 
for  something  out  of  itself.  For,  this  is  the 
very  bond  and  seal  of  our  common  humanity  ; 
it  is  the  golden  link  which  knits  together  and 
preserves  the  human  species.  It  is  in  the 
need  of  loving  and  of  being  loved,  that  the 
highest  instincts  of  our  nature  are  first  re- 
vealed. Not  only  is  it  found  among  the  good 
and  the  virtuous,  but  experience  proves  that 


152 


MILL  OX  LIBERTY. 


it  is  compatible  with  almost  any  amount  of 
depravity,  and  with  almost  every  form  of  vice. 
Ko  other  principle  is  so  general  or  so  power- 
ful. It  exists  in  the  most  barbarous  and  fe- 
rocious states  of  society,  and  we  know  that 
even  sanguinary  and  revolting  crimes  are 
often  unable  to  efface  it  from  the  breast  of  the 
criminal.  It  warms  the  coldest  temperament, 
and  softens  the  hardest  heart.  However  a 
character  may  be  deteriorated  and  debased, 
this  single  passion  is  capable  of  redeeming  it 
from  utter  defilement,  and  of  rescuing  it  from 
the  lowest  depths.  And  if,  from  time  to 
time,  we  hear  of  an  apparently  well  attested 
case  of  its  entire  absence,  we  are  irresistibly 
impelled  to  believe  that,  even  in  that  mind, 
it  lurks  unseen ;  that  it  is  stunted,  not  de- 
stroyed ;  that  there  is  yet  some  nook  or  cranny 
in  which  it  is  buried ;  that  the  avenues  from 
without  are  not  quite  closed ;  and  that,  in 
spite  of  adverse  circumstances,  the  affections 
are  not  so  dead  but  that  it  would  be  possible 
to  rouse  them  from  their  torpor,  and  kindle 
them  into  life. 

Look  now  at  the  way  in  which  this  god- 
like and  fundamental  principle  of  our  nature 


MILL  ON  LIBEKTY.  153 

acts.  As  long  as  we  are  with  those  whom 
we  love,  and  as  long  as  the  sense  of  security 
is  unimpaired,  we  rejoice,  and  the  remote 
consequences  of  our  love  are  usually  forgotten. 
Its  fears  and  its  risks  are  unheeded.  But, 
when  the  dark  day  approaches,  and  the  mo- 
ment of  sorrow  is  at  hand,  other  and  yet  es- 
sential parts  of  our  affection  come  into  play. 
And  if,  perchance,  the  struggle  has  heen  long 
and  arduous ;  if  we  have  been  tempted  to 
cling  to  hope  when  hope  should  have  been 
abandoned,  so  much  the  more  are  we  at  the 
last  changed  and  humbled.  To  note  the 
slow,  but  inevitable  march  of  disease,  to  watch 
the  enemy  stealing  in  at  the  gate,  to  see  the 
strength  gradually  waning,  the  limbs  totter- 
ing more  and  more,  the  noble  faculties  dwind- 
ling by  degrees,  the  eye  paling  and  losing 
its  lustre,  the  tongue  faltering  as  it  vainly  tries 
to  utter  its  words  of  endearment,  the  very 
lips  hardly  able  to  smile  with  their  wonted 
tenderness ; — to  see  this,  is  hard  indeed  to 
bear,  and  many  of  the  strongest  natures  have 
sunk  under  it.  But  when  even  this  is  gone ; 
when  the  very  signs  of  life  are  mute  ;  when 
the  last  faint  tie  is  severed,  and  there  lies 
7* 


154 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


before  us  nought  save  the  shell  and  husk  of 
what  we  loved  too  well,  then  truly,  if  we 
believed  the  separation  were  final,  how  could 
we  stand  up  and  live?  We  have  staked  our 
all  upon  a  single  cast,  and  lost  the  stake. 
There,  where  we  have  garnered  up  our  hearts, 
and  where  our  treasure  is,  thieves  break  in 
and  spoil.  Methinks,  that  in  that  moment 
of  desolation,  the  best  of  us  would  succumb, 
but  for  the  deep  conviction  that  all  is  not 
really  over ;  that  we  have  as  yet  only  seen 
a  part ;  and  that  something  remains  behind. 
Something  behind ;  something  which  the  eye 
of  reason  cannot  discern,  but  on  which  the 
eye  of  affection  is  fixed.  What  is  that,  which, 
passing  over  us  like  a  shadow,  strains  the 
aching  vision  as  we  gaze  at  it  ?  Whence 
comes  that  sense  of  mysterious  companion- 
ship in  the  midst  of  solitude ;  that  ineffable 
feeling  which  cheers  the  afflicted  ?  Why  is  it 
that,  at  these  times,  our  minds  are  thrown 
back  on  themselves,  and,  being  so  thrown, 
have  a  forecast  of  another  and  a  higher 
state  ?  If  this  be  a  delusion,  it  is  one  which 
the  affections  have  themselves  created,  and  we 
must  believe  that  the  purest  and  noblest  ele- 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


155 


ments  of  our  nature  conspire  to  deceive  us. 
So  surely  as  we  lose  what  we  love,  so  surely 
does  hope  mingle  with  grief.  That  if  a  man 
stood  alone,  he  would  deem  himself  mortal, 
I  can  well  imagine.  Why  not  ?  On  account 
of  his  loneliness,  his  moral  faculties  would  be 
undeveloped,  and  it  is  solely  from  them  that 
he  could  learn  the  doctrine  of  immortality. 
There  is  nothing,  either  in  the  mechanism  of 
the  material  universe,  or  in  the  vast  sweep 
and  compass  of  science,  which  can  teach  it. 
The  human  intellect,  glorious  as  it  is,  and  in 
its  own  field  almost  omnipotent,  knows  it  not. 
For,  the  province  and  function  of  the  intellect 
is  to  take  those  steps,  and  to  produce  those  im- 
provements, whether  speculative  or  practical, 
which  accelerate  the  march  of  nations,  and  to 
which  we  owe  the  august  and  imposing  fabric 
of  modern  civilization.  But  this  intellectual 
movement  which  determines  the  condition  of 
man,  does  not  apply  with  the  same  force  to 
the  condition  of  men.  What  is  most  potent 
in  the  mass,  loses  its  supremacy  in  the  unit. 
One  law  for  the  separate  elements ;  another 
law  for  the  entire  compound.  The  intellectual 
principle  is  conspicuous  in  regard  to  the  race  ; 


156 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


the  moral  principle  in  regard  to  the  indi- 
vidual. And  of  all  the  moral  sentiments  which 
adorn  and  elevate  the  human  character,  the 
instinct  of  affection  is  surely  the  most  lovely  y 
the  most  powerful,  and  the  most  general.  Un- 
less, therefore,  we  are  prepared  to  assert  that 
this,  the  fairest  and  choicest  of  our  possessionsT 
is  of  so  delusive  and  fraudulent  a  character, 
that  its  dictates  are  not  to  be  trusted,  we  can 
hardly  avoid  the  conclusion,  that,  inasmuch 
as  they  are  the  same  in  all  ages,  with  all 
degrees  of  knowledge,  and  with  all  varieties 
of  religion,  they  bear  upon  their  surface  the 
impress  of  truth,  and  are  at  once  the  con- 
ditions and  consequence  of  our  being. 

It  is,  then,  to  that  sense  of  immortality 
with  which  the  affections  inspire  us,  that  I 
would  appeal  for  the  best  proof  of  the  reality 
of  a  future  life.  Other  proofs  perhaps  there 
are,  which  it  may  be  for  other  men  or  for 
other  times  to  work  out.  But,  before  this 
can  be  done,  the  entire  subject  will  have  to 
be  reopened,  in  order  that  it  may  be  discussed 
with  boldness  and  yet  with  calmness,  which 
however  cannot  hapj)en  as  long  as  a  stigma 
rests  on  those  who  attack  the  belief ;  because 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


157 


its  assailants,  being  unfairly  treated,  will  for 
the  most  part  be  either  timid  or  passionate. 
How  mischievous  as  well  as  how  unjust  such 
a  stigma  is,  has,  I  trust,  been  made  apparent, 
and  to  that  part  of  the  question  I  need  not 
revert.  One  thing  only  I  would  repeat,  be- 
cause I  honestly  believe  it  to  be  of  the  deepest 
importance.  Most  earnestly  would  I  again 
urge  upon  those  who  cherish  the  doctrine  of 
immortality,  not  to  defend  it,  as  they  too  often 
do,  by  arguments  which  have  a  basis  smaller 
than  the  doctrine  itself.  I  long  to  see  this 
glorious  tenet  rescued  from  the  jurisdiction 
of  a  narrow  and  sectarian  theology,  which, 
foolishly,  ascribing  to  a  single  religion  the 
possession  of  all  truth,  proclaims  other  re- 
ligions to  be  false,  and  debases  the  most 
magnificent  topics  by  contracting  them  within 
the  horizon  of  its  own  little  vision.  Every 
creed  which  has  existed  long  and  played  a 
great  part,  contains  a  large  amount  of  truth, 
or  else  it  would  not  have  retained  its  hold 
upon  the  human  mind.  To  suppose,  however, 
that  any  one  of  them  contains  the  whole  truth, 
is  to  suppose  that  as  soon  as  that  creed 
was  enunciated  the  limits  of  inspiration  were 


158 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


reached,  and  the  power  of  inspiration  exhaust- 
ed.    For   such  a   supposition  we   have  no 
warrant.    On  the  contrary,  the  history  of  man- 
kind, if  compared  in  long  periods,  shows  a 
very  slow,  but  still  a  clearly  marked,  improve- 
ment in  the  character  of  successive  creeds  ;  so 
that  if  we  reason  from  the  analogy  of  the  past, 
we  have  a  right  to  hope  that  the  improve- 
ment will  continue,  and  that  subsequent  creeds 
will  surpass  ours.    Using  the  word  religion 
in  its  ordinary  sense,  we  find  that  the  re- 
ligious opinions  of  men  depend  on  an  im- 
mense variety  of  circumstances  which  are  con- 
stantly shifting.    Hence  it  is,  that  whatever 
rests  merely  upon  these  opinions  has  in  it 
something  transient  and  mutable.    "Well,  there- 
fore, may  they  who  take  a  distant  and  com- 
prehensive view,  be  filled  with  dismay  when 
they  see  a  doctrine  like  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  defended  in  this  manner.    Such  ad- 
vocates incur  a  heavy  responsibility.  They 
imperil  their  own  cause ;    they  make  the 
fundamental  depend  upon  the  casual ;  they 
support  what  is  permanent  by  what  is  ephem- 
eral ;    and  with  their  books,  their  dogmas, 
their  traditions,  their  rituals,  their  records, 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


159 


and  their  other  perishable  contrivances,  they 
seek  to  prove  what  was  known  to  the  world 
before  these  existed,  and  what,  if  these  were 
to  die  away,  would  still  be  known,  and  would 
remain  the  common  heritage  of  the  human 
species,  and  the  consolation  of  myriads  yet 
unborn. 


Note  to  p.  85. 

"On  Se  c/c  twv  TrpSrepov  *lpT)fi4vu)v  oi  \6yoiy  Kal  Sta  tovtuv, 
Kal  irpos  ravTa,  fit  a  ftkv  iriams  7]  Sta.  rrjs  iiraywyrjs.  Ei  yap  tis 
e7rt(T/f ottoitj  eKaarr]!/  twc  irpoTacreui/  Kal  ruv  irpof3\7]fjLaTO)u '  <pai- 
voir  av  -/)  airb  rod  opov,  ^  curb  rod  t'Stov,  airb  rod  avnf3ef$y\K6TOs 
yeyevrjfievr}. — Aristotclis  Topicorum,  lib.  i.  cap.  vi.,  Lipsiae, 
1832,  p.  104. 

AKopHT/jLevcav  Se  tovtuv,  xp$]  SteAeVflat,  ir6<ra  ruu  \6yuv  elfSq 
twv  SiaXeKTiKuu.  "Ectti  Se  rb  pikv  iiraywy)],  rb  Se  <rv?\J^oyicrp.6s. 
Kal  <rv\Aoyt<Tfibs  fikv  ri  eVrty,  tfprjrai  irpbrspov.  'Eirayuy})  Se  77 
airb  ruiv  Kadenatrra  iirl  to.  KaQ6\ov  ecpoSos '  otov,  et  cart  Kvfiepwf)- 
T7js  6  iiriffTafievos  KparicrTOS,  Kal  rjuloxos  •  Kal  o\us  iarlv  6 
iiruTTCifLevos  irzpl  eKacrrov  bipiffTOS. — Aristot.  Topic,  lib.  i.  cap. 
x.  p.  108. 

'Eaf  Se  p.)]  TiBrj,  St'  iiraycayris  A7j7rTeW,  irpoTtlvovTa  iirl  ruu 
Kara,  ficpos  ivavriwv.  *H  yap  Sta.  crvWoyifffiov,  ^  Si'  iirayayrjs 
tos  avayKaias  K-qirreov  •  tj  ras  pXv  eVaywy?;,  tos  Se  cvWoyiGfiQ  • 
ocrai  Se  Kiav  irpotpaveis  etVt,  Kal  avras  irpoTeivovra.  ,ABr]\6T€p6v 
re  yap  ael  eV  tt)  airoardaei  Kal  iiraywyy  rb  av/xf3ea6/x€vov  • 
Kal  &p.a  rb  avras  ras  xpwfaovs  irporuvai  Kal  p.))  Svvdfievov  e'/ce/- 


160 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


yeas  Aaf}e?v,  eToi/j.ov.  Tas  8e  irapa  ravras  elprip.4pas  Xrjirreov  fiev 
tovtuv  X^PLV '  ^xdcTTr)  8e  w8e  Xpr)<TT€ov.  'Eirdyovra  [xkv  airb 
twv  KadeKaara  iirl  to  KaOoAov,  Kal  rwv  yvwp'ipiwv  iirl  to  &yvco- 
ara. — Aristot.  Topic,  lib.  viii.  cap.  i.  pp.  253,  254. 

JE7rel  8e  iraaa  irporao'is  ffvWoyianKr]  tovtwv  ris  ianv,  «£ 
wu  6  ffvWoyifffibs,  %  rivos  rovrwv  eVe/co  •  StjAoj/  8',  orav  erepov 
X&PIV  Xap-fidvrjTai  t$  7rAei'co  ra  ofxoia  ipwrav  •  (3)  yap  Si  iirayco- 
yrjSy  %  St'  6/j.oi6tt)tos,  ws  iirl  rb  iro\v  rb  Ka66\ov  \ap.fSdvovai  •) 
to  p.\v  KaOeKaara  irdvra  dereou,  av  y  ahrjOrj  Kal  eV8o|a  • — Aristot. 
Topic,  lib.  viii.  cap.  vii.  p.  267. 

ry  fxkv  ovv  KadShov  Ozwpov/xev  ra  eV  juepet,  ry  8e  oiKe'ia  ovk 
Xo~p.ev.  "Hot'  eVSe'xeTai  Kal  airaraadai  irepl  avrd-  ir\)]v  ovk 
ivavrim,  oAA'  *Xeiv  lx*v  TV  Ka96\ov,  airaracdai  8e  ry  Kara  fii- 
pos. — Aristotelis  Analytica  Prior  a,  lib.  ii.  cap.  xxiii.,  Lipsiae, 
1832,  p.  134. 

"Kiravra  yap  iria'revop.ei/  fj  8zd  cvKKoyio'p.ov,  r)  e'£  iiraywyi]s. 
'Y.-iraywyi)  p.\v  obv  iffn  Kal  6  e£  iiraywyris  avWoyiap-bs  rb  Sid  rod 
krepov  Odrepov  &Kpov  rip  p.4o~cp  cvAXoyicraaOai. — Aristot.  Analyt. 
Prior.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  xxv.  p.  138. 

Qavepbv  8e  Kal,  on,  e3f  ns  afodrjcris  iK\4\oiirev,  avdyKr],  Kal 
iiri(TTiiixr]v  riva  iK\e\onr4vai,  %v  aZvvarov  Aafielv  •  eiVep  jxavdd- 
vo[xtv  t)  iiraywyy,  ^  airodel^ei.  "Ean  8'  rj  pXv  air6h'eit>is  4k  rwv 
KaQ6\ov  •  7]  8'  iiraycayrj  e/c  rwv  Kara  p.4pos  •  aSvvarou  5e  to  Kado- 
\ov  Otaprjaai,  et  /x^j  Bi  iirayuyrjs  ■  (eVei  Kal  to  e'|  d^otpecrecos 
Xey6y.eva  torai  St'  sitayuyyis  yvdopifxa,  idu  ns  fiovAyrai  yvwpi/xa 
iroielv,  on  y7rapx6t  ^K-dartp  y4vei  tvia,  Kal  el  p.)]  x<*>picrrd  io~nv,  y 
roiov  8t  ataGTOv)  inaxQwai  8e  /jltj  e%oj/Tay  vuaQrio'iv  aSvvarov. 
Tu>v  yap  KaOeKao-rov  7}  ataQriffis  •  ov  yap  ivSexerai  Aaj8e?v  avruv 
r))v  iirio'r^p.Tjv  ■  ovre  yap  4k  toov  KaQoXov  'dvev  iiraywyijs,  ovre 
Sid  rrjs  iTrayayrjs  ttvev  rrjs  ala6r)o~ea)S. — Aristotelis  Analytica 
Posteriora,  lib.  i.  cap.  xviii.,  Lipsiae,  1832,  p.  117. 


MILL  ON  LIBERTY. 


161 


Kal  7}  jxkv  KaOoKov  uotjtt)  •  7]  5e  Kara  /xepos  ei's  ouaBif](nv  Te- 
AgvtS,. — Anahjt.  Post.,  lib.  i.  cap.  xxiv.  p.  191. 

All  that  Aristotle  knew  of  induction  is  contained  in  these 
passages.  What  he  says  in  his  Metaphysics  is  more  vaguely  ex- 
pressed, or  perhaps  the  text  is  more  corrupt.  The  early  part  of 
the  first  book  may,  however,  be  looked  at. 


THE 

INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN 

ON  THE 

PROGRESS    OF  KNOWLEDGE 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON  THE 
PKOGEESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.* 


The  subject  upon  which  I  have  undertaken 
to  address  you  is  the  influence  of  women  on  the 
progress  of  knowledge,  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
most  interesting  questions  that  could  be  sub- 
mitted to  any  audience.  Indeed,  it  is  not  only 
very  interesting,  it  is  also  extremely  important. 
When  we  see  how  knowledge  has  civilized 
mankind  ;  when  we  see  how  every  great  step 
in  the  march  and  advance  of  nations  has  been 
invariably  preceded  by  a  corresponding  step  in 
their  knowledge  ;  when  we  moreover  see,  what 
is  assuredly  true,  that  women  are  constantly 
growing  more  influential,  it  becomes  a  matter 
of  great  moment  that  we  should  endeavour  to 

*  A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Royal  Institution,  on  Friday, 
the  19th  of  March,  1858. 


166 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  "WOMEN  ON 


ascertain  the  relation  between  their  influence 
and  our  knowledge.  On  every  side,  in  all  so- 
cial phenomena,  in  the  education  of  children, 
in  the  tone  and  spirit  of  literature,  in  the  forms 
and  usages  of  life ;  nay,  even  in  the  proceed- 
ings of  legislatures,  in  the  history  of  statute- 
books,  and  in  the  decisions  of  magistrates,  we 
find  manifold  proofs  that  women  are  gradually 
making  their  way,  and  slowly  but  surely  win- 
ning for  themselves  a  position  superior  to  any 
they  have  hitherto  attained.  This  is  one  of 
many  peculiarities  which  distinguish  modern 
civilization,  and  which  show  how  essentially 
the  most  advanced  countries  are  different  from 
those  that  formerly  flourished.  Among  the 
most  celebrated  nations  of  antiquity,  women 
held  a  very  subordinate  place.  The  most 
splendid  and  durable  monument  of  the  Roman 
empire,  and  the  noblest  gift  Rome  has  be- 
queathed to  posterity,  is  her  jurisprudence — a 
vast  and  harmonious  system,  worked  out  with 
consummate  skill,  and  from  which  we  derive 
our  purest  and  largest  notions  of  civil  law.  Ye'c 
this,  which,  not  to  mention  the  immense  sway 
it  still  exercises  in  France  and  Germany,  has 
taught  to  our  most  enlightened  lawyers  their 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  167 

best  lessons  ;  and  which  enabled  Bracton 
among  the  earlier  jurists,  Somers,  Hardwicke, 
Mansfield,  and  Stowell  among  the  later,  to 
soften  by  its  refinement  the  rude  maxims  of  our 
Saxon  ancestors,  and  adjust  the  coarser  princi- 
ples of  the  old  Common  Law  to  the  actual  exi- 
gencies of  life  ;  this  imperishable  specimen  of 
human  sagacity  is,  strange  to  say,  so  grossly 
unjust  towards  women,  that  a  great  writer 
upon  that  code  has  well  observed,  that  in  it 
women  are  regarded  not  as  persons,  but  as 
tilings  ;  so  completely  were  they  stripped  of 
all  their  rights,  and  held  in  subjection  by 
their  proud  and  imperious  masters.  As  to  the 
other  great  nation  of  antiquity,  we  have  only 
to  open  the  literature  of  the  ancient  Greeks 
to  see  with  what  airs  of  superiority,  with  what 
§  serene  and  lofty  contempt,  and  sometimes  with 
what  mocking  and  biting  scorn,  women  were 
treated  by  that  lively  and  ingenious  people. 
Instead  of  valuing  them  as  companions,  they 
looked  on  them  as  toys.  How  little  part 
women  really  took  in  the  development  of 
Greek  civilization  may  be  illustrated  by  the 
singular  fact,  that  their  influence,  scanty  as  it 
was,  did  not  reach  its  height  in  the  most  civil- 


168  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 


ized  times,  or  in  the  most  civilized  regions.  In 
modern  Europe,  the  influence  of  women  and 
the  spread  of  civilization  have  been  nearly 
commensurate,  both  advancing  with  almost 
equal  speed.  But  if  you  compare  the  picture 
of  Greek  life  in  Homer  with  that  to  be  found 
in  Plato  and  his  contemporaries,  you  will 
be  struck  by  a  totally  opposite  circumstance. 
Between  Plato  and  Homer  there  intervened, 
according  to  the  common  reckoning,  a  period 
of  at  least  four  centuries,  during  which  the 
Greeks  made  many  notable  improvements  in 
the  arts  of  life,  and  in  various  branches  of  spec- 
ulative and  practical  knowledge.  So  far,  how- 
ever, from  women  participating  in  this  move- 
ment, we  find  that,  in  the  state  of  society 
exhibited  by  Plato  and  his  contemporaries, 
they  had  evidently  lost  ground ;  their  in-  « 
fluence  being  less  then  than  it  was  in  the 
earlier  and  more  barbarous  period  depicted 
by  Homer.  This  fact  illustrates  the  question 
in  regard  to  time ;  another  fact  illustrates  it 
in  regard  to  place.  In  Sj)arta,  women  pos- 
sessed more  influence  than  they  did  in  Athens  ; 
although  the  Spartans  were  rude  and  igno- 
rant, the  Athenians  polite  and  accomplished. 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  169 

The  causes  of  these  inconsistencies  would 
form  a  curious  subject  for  investigation  :  but 
it  is  enough  to  call  your  attention  to  them 
as  one  of  many  proofs  that  the  boasted  civili- 
zations of  antiquity  were  eminently  one-sided, 
and  that  they  fell  because  society  did  not 
advance  in  all  its  parts,  but  sacrificed  some  of 
its  constituents  in  order  to  secure  the  prog- 
ress of  others. 

In  modern  European  society  we  have 
happily  no  instance  of  this  sort ;  and  if  we 
now  inquire  what  the  influence  of  women  has 
been  upon  that  society,  every  one  will  allow 
that  on  the  whole  it  has  been  extremely  bene- 
ficial. Their  influence  has  prevented  life  from 
being  too  exclusively  practical  and  selfish,  and 
has  saved  it  from  degenerating  into  a  dull  and 
monotonous  routine,  by  infusing  into  it  an 
ideal  and  romantic  element.  It  has  softened 
the  violence  of  men ;  it  has  improved  their 
manners  ;  it  has  lessened  their  cruelty.  Thus 
far,  the  gain  is  complete  and  undeniable.  But 
if  we  ask  what  their  influence  has  been,  not 
on  the  general  interests  of  society,  but  on  one 
of  those  interests,  namely,  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  the  answer  is  not  so  obvious.  For, 
8 


170  THE  IXFIXEXCE  OF  WOMEN  03T 

to  state  the  matter  candidly,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  none  of  the  greatest  works  which 
instruct  and  delight  mankind,  have  been  com- 
posed by  women.  In  poetry,  in  painting,  in 
sculpture,  in  music,  the  most  exquisite  produc- 
tions are  the  work  of  men.  Xo  woman,  how- 
ever favourable  her  circumstances  may  have 
been,  has  made  a  discovery  sufficiently  impor- 
tant to  mark  an  epoch  in  the  annals  of  the 
human  mind.  These  are  facts  which  cannot 
be  contested,  and  from  them  a  very  stringent 
and  peremptory  inference  has  been  drawn. 
From  them  it  has  been  inferred,  and  it  is 
openly  stated  by  eminent  writers,  that  women 
have  no  concern  with  the  highest  forms  of 
knowledge  ;  that  such  matters  are  altogether 
out  of  their  reach  ;  that  they  should  confine 
themselves  to  practical,  moral,  and  domestic 
life,  which  it  is  their  province  to  exalt  and  to 
beautify ;  but  that  they  can  exercise  no 
influence,  direct  or  indirect,  over  the  progress 
of  knowledge,  and  that  if  they  seek  to  exercise 
such  influence,  they  will  not  only  fail  in  their 
object,  but  will  restrict  the  field  of  their  really 
useful  and  legitimate  activity. 

Xow,  I  may  as  well  state  at  once,  and  at 


TEE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  171 

the  outset,  that  I  have  come  here  to-night  with 
the  intention  of  combating  this  proposition, 
which  I  hold  to  be  un philosophical  and  dan- 
gerous ;  false  in  theory  and  pernicious  in  prac- 
tice. I  believe,  and  I  hope  before  we  separate 
to  convince  you,  that  so  far  from  women 
exercising  little  or  no  influence  over  the 
progress  of  knowledge,  they  are  capable  of 
exercising,  and  have  actually  exercised,  an  enor- 
mous influence ;  that  this  influence  is,  in  fact, 
so  great  that  it  is  hardly  possible  to  assign 
limits  to  it ;  and  that  great  as  it  is,  it  may 
with  advantage  be  still  further  increased.  I 
hope,  moreover,  to  convince  you  that  this 
influence  has  been  exhibited  not  merely  from 
time  to  time  in  rare,  sudden,  and  transitory 
ebullitions,  but  that  it  acts  by  virtue  of  certain 
laws  inherent  to  human  nature ;  and  that 
although  it  works  as  an  under-current  below 
the  surface,  and  is  therefore  invisible  to  hasty 
observers,  it  has  already  produced  the  most  im- 
portant results,  and  has  affected  the  shape,  the 
character,  and  the  amount  of  our  knowledge. 

To  clear  up  this  matter,  we  must  first  of  all 
understand  what  knowledge  is.  Some  men 
who  pride  themselves  on  their  common  sense 


172  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

— and  whenever  a  man  boasts  much  about  that, 
you  may  be  pretty  sure  that  he  has  very  little 
sense,  either  common  or  uncommon — such 
men  there  are  who  will  tell  you  that  all  knowl- 
edge consists  of  facts,  that  everything  else  is 
mere  talk  and  theory,  and  that  nothing  has 
any  value  except  facts.  Those  who  speak  so 
much  of  the  value  of  facts  may  understand  the 
meaning  of  fact,  but  they  evidently  do  not 
understand  the  meaning  of  value.  For,  the 
value  of  a  thing  is  not  a  property  residing  in 
that  thing,  nor  is  it  a  component ;  but  it  is 
simply  its  relation  to  some  other  thing.  "We 
say,  for  instance,  that  a  five-shilling  piece  has 
a  certain  value  ;  but  the  value  does  not  reside 
in  the  coin.  If  it  does,  where  is  it  ?  Our 
senses  cannot  grasp  value.  We  cannot  see 
value,  nor  hear  it,  nor  feel  it,  nor  taste  it,  nor 
smell  it.  The  value  consists  solely  in  the  rela- 
tion which  the  five-shilling  piece  bears  to 
something  else.  Just  so  in  regard  to  facts. 
Facts,  as  facts,  have  no  sort  of  value,  but  are 
simply  a  mass  of  idle  lumber.  The  value  of  a 
fact  is  not  an  element  or  constituent  of  that 
fact,  but  is  its  relation  to  the  total  stock  of  our 
knowledge,   either    present    or  prospective. 


THE  FROGEESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


173 


Facts,  therefore,  have  merely  a  potential  and, 
as  it  were,  subsequent  value,  and  the  only 
advantage  of  possessing  them  is  the  possibility 
of  drawing  conclusions  from  them  ;  in  other 
words,  of  rising  to  the  idea,  the  principle,  the 
law  which  governs  them.  Our  knowledge  is 
composed  not  of  facts,  but  of  the  relations 
which  facts  and  ideas  bear  to  themselves  and 
to  each  other ;  and  real  knowledge  consists 
not  in  an  acquaintance  with  facts,  which  only 
makes  a  pedant,  but  in  the  use  of  facts,  which 
makes  a  philosopher. 

Looking  at  knowledge  in  this  way,  we  shall 
find  that  it  has  three  divisions, — Method, 
Science,  and  Art.  Of  method  I  will  speak 
presently ;  but  I  will  first  state  the  limits  of 
the  other  two  divisions.  The  immediate  object 
of  all  art  is  either  pleasure  or  utility :  the 
immediate  object  of  all  science  is  solely  truth. 
As  art  and.  science  have  different  objects,  so 
also  have  they  different  faculties.  The  faculty 
of  art  is  to  change  events ;  the  faculty  of 
science  is  to  foresee  them.  The  phenomena 
with  which  we  deal  are  controlled  by  art ; 
they  are  predicted  by  science.  The  more 
complete  a  science  is,  the  greater  its  power 


174  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

of  prediction  ;  the  more  complete  an  art  is,  the 
greater  its  power  of  control.  Astronomy,  for 
instance,  is  called  the  queen  of  the  sciences,  be- 
cause it  is  the  most  advanced  of  all ;  and  the 
astronomer,  while  he  abandons  all  hope  of 
controlling  or  altering  the  phenomena,  fre- 
quently knows  what  the  phenomena  will  be 
years  before  they  actually  appear ;  the  extent 
of  his  foreknowledge  proving  the  accuracy  of 
his  science.  So,  too,  in  the  science  of  me- 
chanics, we  predict  that,  certain  circumstances 
being  present,  certain  results  must  follow  ;  and 
having  done  this,  our  science  ceases.  Our  art 
then  begins,  and  from  that  moment  the  object 
of  utility  and  the  faculty  of  control  come  into 
play ;  so  that  in  the  art  of  mechanics,  we  alter 
what  in  the  science  of  mechanics  we  were 
content  to  foresee. 

One  of  the  most  conspicuous  tendencies 
of  advancing  civilization  is  to  give  a  scientific 
basis  to  that  faculty  of  control  which  is  repre- 
sented by  art,  and  thus  afford  fresh  prominence 
to  the  faculty  of  prediction.  In  the  earliest 
stage  of  society  there  are  many  arts,  but  no 
sciences.  A  little  later,  science  begins  to 
appear,  and  every  subsequent  stej)  is  marked 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


175 


by  an  increased  desire  to  bring  art  under  the 
dominion  of  science.  To  tliose  who  have  stud- 
ied the  history  of  the  human  mind,  this  tend- 
ency is  so  familiar  that  I  need  hardly  stop  to 
prove  it.  Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  instance 
is  in  the  case  of  agriculture,  which,  for  thou- 
sands of  years,  was  a  mere  empirical  art,  resting 
on  the  traditional  maxims  of  experience,  but 
which,  during  the  present  century,  chemists 
began  to  draw  under  their  jurisdiction,  so  that 
the  practical  art  of  manuring  the  ground  is 
explained  by  laws  of  physical  science.  Prob- 
ably the  next  step  will  be  to  bring  another  part 
of  the  art  of  agriculture  under  the  dominion 
of  meteorology,  which  will  be  done  as  soon  as 
the  conditions  which  govern  the  changes  of  the 
weather  have  been  so  generalized  as  to  enable 
us  to  foretell  what  the  weather  will  be. 

General  reasoning,  therefore,  as  well  as  the 
history  of  what  has  been  actually  done,  jus- 
tify us  in  saying  that  the  highest,  the  ripest, 
and  the  most  important  form  of  knowledge,  is 
the  scientific  form  of  predicting  consequences  ; 
it  is  therefore  to  this  form  that  I  shall  restrict 
the  remainder  of  what  I  have  to  say  to  you 
respecting  the  influence  of  women.    And  the 


17G 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 


point  which  I  shall  attempt  to  prove  is,  that 
there  is  a  natural,  a  leading,  and  probably  an 
indestructible  element,  in  the  minds  of  women, 
which  enables  them,  not  indeed  to  make 
scientific  discoveries,  but  to  exercise  the  most 
momentous  and  salutary  influence  over  the 
method  by  which  discoveries  are  made.  And 
as  all  questions  concerning  the  philosophy  of 
method  lie  at  the  very  root  of  our  knowledge, 
I  will,  in  the  first  place,  state,  as  succinctly  as 
I  am  able,  the  only  two  methods  by  which 
we  can  arrive  at  truth. 

The  scientific  inquirer,  properly  so  called, 
that  is,  he  whose  object  is  merely  truth,  has 
only  two  ways  of  attaining  his  result.  He 
may  proceed  from  the  external  world  to  the 
internal ;  or  he  may  begin  with  the  internal 
and  proceed  to  the  external.  In  the  former 
case  he  studies  the  facts  presented  to  his 
senses,  in  order  to  arrive  at  a  true  idea  of 
them  ;  in  the  latter  case  he  studies  the  ideas 
already  in  his  mind,  in  order  to  explain  the 
facts  of  which  his  senses  are  cognizant.  If 
he  begin  with  the  facts  his  method  is  induc- 
tive ;  if  he  begin  with  the  ideas  it  is  deductive. 
The  inductive  philosopher  collects  phenomena 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  177 

either  by  observation  or  "by  experiment,  and 
from  them  rises  to  the  general  principle  or 
law  which  explains  and  covers  them.  The 
deductive  philosopher  draws  the  principle  from 
ideas  already  existing  in  his  mind,  and  ex- 
plains the  phenomena  by  descending  on  them, 
instead  of  rising  from  them.    Several  eminent 
thinkers  have  asserted  that  every  idea  is  the 
result  of  induction,  and  that  the  axioms  of 
geometry,  for  instance,  are  the  product  of  early 
and  unconscious  induction.    In  the  same  way 
Mr.  Mill,  in  his  great  work  on  Logic,  affirms 
that  all  reasoning  is  in  reality  from  particular 
to  particular,  and  that  the  major  premiss  of 
every  syllogism  is  merely  a  record  and  register 
of  knowledge  previously  obtained.  Whether 
this  be  true,  or  whether,  as  another  school  of 
thinkers  asserts,  we  have  ideas  antecedent  to 
experience,  is  a  question  which  has  been  hotly 
disputed,  but  which  I  do  not  believe  the  actual 
resources  of  our  knowledge  can  answer,  and 
certainly  I  have  no  intention  at  present  of 
making  the  attempt.     It  is  enough  to  say 
that  we  call  geometry  a  deductive  science, 
because,  even  if  its  axioms  are  arrived  at  in- 
ductivelv,  the  inductive  process  is  extremely 
8* 


178  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

small,  and  we  are  unconscious  of  it ;  while  the 
deductive  reasonings  form  the  great  mass  and 
difficulty  of  the  science. 

To  bring  this  distinction  home  to  you,  I 
will  illustrate  it  by  a  specimen  of  deductive 
and  inductive  investigation  of  the  same  sub- 
ject. Suppose  a  writer  on  what  is  termed 
social  science,  wishes  to  estimate  the  influence 
of  different  habits  of  thought  on  the  average 
duration  of  life,  and  taking  as  an  instance 
the  opposite  pursuits  of  poets  and  mathemati- 
cians, asks  which  of  them  live  longest.  How 
is  he  to  solve  this  ?  If  he  proceeds  induc- 
tively he  will  first  collect  the  facts,  that  is,  he 
will  ransack  the  biographies  of  poets  and 
mathematicians  in  different  ages,  different  cli- 
mates, and  different  states  of  society,  so  as 
to  eliminate  perturbations  arising  from  cir- 
cumstances not  connected  with  his  subject. 
He  will  then  throw  the  results  into  the  statis- 
tical form  of  tables  of  mortality,  and  on  com- 
paring them  will  find,  that  notwithstanding  the 
immense  variety  of  circumstances  which  he 
has  investigated,  there  is  a  general  average 
which  constitutes  an  empirical  law,  and  proves 
that  mathematicians,  as  a  body,  are  longer 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


179 


lived  than  poets.  This  is  the  inductive  meth- 
od. On  the  other  hand,  the  deductive  in- 
quirer will  arrive  at  precisely  the  same  con- 
clusion by  a  totally  different  method.  He  will 
argue  thus  :  poetry  appeals  to  the  imagination, 
mathematics  to  the  understanding.  To  work 
the  imagination  is  more  exciting  than  to  work 
the  understanding,  and  what  is  habitually 
exciting  is  usually  unhealthly.  But  what  is 
usually  unhealthy  will  tend  to  shorten  life ; 
therefore  poetry  tends  more  than  mathematics 
to  shorten  life  ;  therefore  on  the  whole  poets 
will  die  sooner  than  mathematicians. 

You  now  see  the  difference  between  induc- 
tion and  deduction ;  and  you  see,  too,  that 
both  methods  are  valuable,  and  that  any  con- 
clusion must  be  greatly  strengthened  if  we 
can  reach  it  by  two  such  different  paths.  To 
connect  this  with  the  question  before  us,  I 
will  endeavour  to  establish  two  propositions. 
First,  That  women  naturally  prefer  the  de- 
ductive method  to  the  inductive.  Secondly, 
That  women  by  encouraging  in  men  deductive 
habits  of  thought,  have  rendered  an  immense 
though  unconscious  service  to  the  progress 
of  knowledge,  by  preventing  scientific  investi- 


180  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

gators  from  being  as  exclusively  inductive  as 
they  would  otherwise  be. 

In  regard  to  women  being  by  nature  more 
deductive,  and  men  more  inductive,  you  will 
remember  that  induction  assigns  the  first  place 
to  particular  facts  ;  deduction  to  general  prop- 
ositions or  ideas.  Eow,  there  are  several 
reasons  why  women  prefer  the  deductive, 
and,  if  I  may  so  say,  ideal  method.  They 
are  more  emotional,  more  enthusiastic,  and 
more  imaginative  than  men  ;  they  therefore 
live  more  in  an  ideal  world  ;  while  men,  with 
their  colder,  harder,  and  austerer  organiza- 
tions, are  more  practical  and  more  under  the 
dominion  of  facts,  to  which  they  consequently 
ascribe  a  higher  importance.  Another  cir- 
cumstance which  makes  women  more  deductive, 
is  that  they  possess  more  of  what  is  called 
intuition.  They  cannot  see  so  far  as  men  can, 
but  what  they  do  see  they  see  quicker.  Hence, 
they  are  constantly  tempted  to  grasp  at  once 
at  an  idea,  and  seek  to  solve  a  problem  sud- 
denly, in  contradistinction  to  the  slower  and 
more  laborious  ascent  of  the  inductive  investi- 
gator. 

That  women  are  more  deductive  than  men, 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  181 


because  they  think  quicker  than  men,  is  a 
proposition  which  some  persons  will  not  relish, 
and  yet  it  may  be  proved  in  a  variety  of 
ways.  Indeed,  nothing  could  prevent  its  being 
universally  admitted  except  the  fact,  that  the 
remarkable  rapidity  with  which  women  think 
is  obscured  by  that  miserable,  that  contempt- 
ible, that  preposterous  system,  called  their 
education,  in  which  valuable  things  are  care- 
fully kept  from  them,  and  trifling  things 
carefully  taught  to  them,  until  their  fine  and 
nimble  minds  are  too  often  irretrievably  in- 
jured. It  is  on  this  account,  that  in  the 
lower  classes  the  superior  quickness  of  women 
is  even  more  noticeable  than  in  the  upper ; 
and  an  eminent  physician,  Dr.  Currie,  men- 
tions in  one  of  his  letters,  that  when  a  labourer 
and  his  wife  came  together  to  consult  him,  it 
was  always  from  the  woman  that  he  gained 
the  clearest  and  most  precise  information,  the 
intellect  of  the  man  moving  too  slowly  for 
his  purpose.  To  this  I  may  add  another  ob- 
servation which  many  travellers  have  made, 
and  which  any  one  can  verify  :  namely,  that 
when  you  are  in  a  foreign  country,  and  speak- 
ing a  foreign  language,  women  will  under- 


182  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

stand  you  quicker  than  men  will ;  and  that 
for  the  same  reason,  if  you  lose  your  way  in 
a  town  abroad,  it  is  always  best  to  apply  to 
a  woman,  because  a  man  will  show  less  readi- 
ness of  apprehension. 

These,  and  other  circumstances  which  might 
be  adduced — such,  for  instance,  as  the  insight 
into  character  possessed  by  women,  and  the 
tine  tact  for  which  they  are  remarkable — prove 
that  they  are  more  deductive  than  men,  for 
two  principal  reasons.  First,  Because  they 
are  quicker  than  men.  Secondly,  Because, 
being  more  emotional  and  enthusiastic,  they 
live  in  a  more  ideal  world,  and  therefore 
prefer  a  method  of  inquiry  which  proceeds 
from  ideas  to  facts ;  leaving  to  men  the  op- 
posite method  of  proceeding  from  facts  to 
ideas. 

My  second  proposition  is,  that  women  have 
rendered  great  though  unconscious  service  to 
science,  by  encouraging  and  keeping  alive 
this  habit  of  deductive  thought ;  and  that  if 
it  were  not  for  them,  scientific  men  would  be 
much  too  inductive,  and  the  progress  of  our 
knowledge  would  be  hindered.  There  are 
many  here  who  will  not  willingly  admit  this 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  1S3 

proposition,  because  in  England,  since  the 
first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  in- 
ductive method,  as  the  means  of  arriving  at 
physical  truths,  has  been  the  object,  not  of 
rational  admiration,  but  of  a  blind  and  servile 
worship  ;  and  it  is  constantly  said,  that  since 
the  time  of  Bacon  all  great  physical  dis- 
coveries have  been  made  by  that  process.  If 
this  be  true,  then  of  course  the  deductive 
habits  of  women  must,  in  reference  to  the 
progress  of  knowledge,  have  done  more  harm 
than  good.  But  it  is  not  true.  It  is  not 
true  that  the  greatest  modern  discoveries 
have  all  been  made  by  induction  ;  and  the 
circumstance  of  its  being  believed  to  be  true, 
is  one  of  many  proofs  how  much  more  suc- 
cessful Englishmen  have  been  in  making  dis- 
coveries  than  in  investigating  the  principles 
according  to  which  discoveries  are  made. 

The  first  instance  I  will  give  you  of  the 
triumph  of  the  deductive  method,  is  in  the 
most  important  discovery  yet  made  respect- 
ing the  inorganic  world  ;  I  mean  the  discov- 
ery of  the  law  of  gravitation  by  Sir  Isaac 
Newton.  Several  of  Newton's  other  discov- 
eries were,  no  doubt,  inductive,  in  so  far  as 


184:  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

they  merely  assumed  such  provisional  and 
tentative  hypotheses  as  are  always  necessary 
to  make  experiments  fruitful.  But  it  is  certain 
that  his  greatest  discovery  of  all  was  deduc- 
tive, in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word  ;  that 
is  to  say,  the  process  of  reasoning  from  ideas 
was  out  of  all  proportion  large,  compared  to 
the  process  of  reasoning  from  facts.  Five  or 
six  years  after  the  accession  of  Charles  II., 
Newton  was  sitting  in  a  garden,  when  (you 
all  know  this  part  of  the  story)  an  apple  fell 
from  a  tree.  Whether  he  had  been  already 
musing  respecting  gravitation,  or  whether  the 
fall  of  the  apple  directed  his  thoughts  into 
that  channel  is  uncertain,  and  is  immaterial 
to  my  present  purpose,  which  is  merely  to 
indicate  the  course  his  mind  actually  took. 
His  object  was  to  discover  some  law,  that  is, 
rise  to  some  higher  truth  respecting  gravity 
than  was  previously  known.  Observe  how 
he  went  to  work.  He  sat  still  where  he  was, 
and  he  thought.  He  did  not  get  up  to  make 
experiments  concerning  gravitation,  nor  did 
he  go  home  to  consult  observations  which 
others  had  made,  or  to  collate  tables  of  ob- 
servations :  he  did  not  even  continue  to  watch 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  185 

the  external  world,  but  he  sat,  like  a  man 
entranced  and  enraptured,  feeding  on  his  own 
mind,  and  evolving  idea  after  idea.  He 
thought  that  if  the  apple  had  been  on  a  higher 
tree,  if  it  had  been  on  the  highest  known  tree, 
it  would  have  equally  fallen.  Thus  far,  there 
was  no  reason  to  think  that  the  power  which 
made  the  apple  fall  was  susceptible  of  diminu- 
tion ;  and  if  it  were  not  susceptible  of  diminu 
tion,  why  should  it  be  susceptible  of  limit  I 
If  it  were  unlimited  and  undiminished,  it  would 
extend  above  the  earth  ;  it  would  reach  the 
moon  and  keep  her  in  her  orbit.  If  the 
power  which  made  the  apple  fall  was  actually 
able  to  control  the  moon,  why  should  it  stop 
there  ?  Why  should  not  the  planets  also  be 
controlled,  and  why  should  not  they  be  forced 
to  run  their  course  by  the  necessity  of  gravi- 
tating towards  the  sun,  just  as  the  moon 
gravitated  towards  the  earth  ?  His  mind  thus 
advancing  from  idea  to  idea,  he  was  carried 
by  imagination  into  the  realms  of  space,  and 
still  sitting,  neither  experimenting  nor  observ- 
ing, but  heedless  of  the  operations  of  nature, 
he  completed  the  most  sublime  and  majestic 
speculation  that  it  ever  entered  into  the  heart 
of  man  to  conceive.    Owing  to  an  inaccurate 


186  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

measurement  of  the  diameter  of  the  earth,  the 
details  which  verified  this  stupendous  con- 
ception were  not  completed  till  twenty  years 
later,  when  Newton,  still  pursuing  the  same 
process,  made  a  deductive  application  of  the 
laws  of  Kepler :  so  that  both  in  the  beginning 
and  in  the  end,  the  greatest  discovery  of  the 
greatest  natural  philosopher  the  world  has 
yet  seen,  was  the  fruit  of  the  deductive 
method.  See  how  small  a  part  the  senses 
played  in  that  discovery  !  It  was  the  triumph 
of  the  idea  !  It  was  the  audacity  of  genius  ! 
It  was  the  outbreak  of  a  mind  so  daring,  and 
yet  so  subtle,  that  we  have  only  Shakspeare's 
with  which  to  compare  it.  To  pretend,  there- 
fore, as  many  have  done,  that  the  fall  of  the 
apple  was  the  cause  of  the  discovery,  and  then 
to  adduce  that  as  a  confirmation  of  the  idle 
and  superficial  saying  ?  that  great  events  spring 
from  little  causes,'  only  shows  how  unable 
such  writers  are  to  appreciate  what  our  mas- 
ters have  done  for  us.  No  great  event  ever 
sprung,  or  ever  will  spring,  from  a  little  cause  ; 
and  this,  the  greatest  of  all  discoveries,  had 
a  cause  fully  equal  to  the  effect  produced. 
The  cause  of  the  discovery  of  the  law  of  gravi- 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE  187 


tation  was  not  the  fall  of  the  apple,  nor  was 
it  anything  that  occurred  in  the  external  world. 
The  cause  of  the  discovery  of  Newton  was 
the  mind  of  Newton  himself. 

The  next  instance  I  will  mention  of  the 
successful  employment  of  the  d  priori,  or  de- 
ductive method,  concerns  the  mineral  king- 
dom. If  you  take  a  crystallized  substance  as 
it  is  usually  found  in  nature,  nothing  can  at 
first  sight  appear  more  irregular  and  capri- 
cious. Even  in  its  simplest  form,  the  shape 
is  so  various  as  to  be  perplexing ;  but  natural 
crystals  are  generally  met  with,  not  in  pri- 
mary forms,  but  in  secondary  ones,  in  which 
they  have  a  singularly  confused  and  uncouth 
aspect.  These  strange-looking  bodies  had  long 
excited  the  attention  of  philosophers,  who, 
after  the  approved  inductive  fashion,  subject- 
ed them  to  all  sorts  of  experiments ;  divided 
them,  broke  them  up,  measured  them,  weighed 
them,  analysed  them,  thrust  them  into  crucibles, 
brought  chemical  agents  to  bear  upon  them,  and 
did  everything  they  could  think  of  to  worm  out 
the  secret  of  these  crystals,  and  get  at  their 
mystery.  Still,  the  mystery  was  not  revealed 
to  them.    At  length,  late  in  the  eighteenth 


188  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 


century,  a  Frenchman  named  Haiiy,  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  men  of  a  remarkable  age, 
made  the  discovery,  and  ascertained  that  these 
native  crystals,  irregular  as  they  appear,  are 
in  truth  perfectly  regular,  and  that  their  sec- 
ondary forms  deviate  from  their  primary  forms 
by  a  regular  process  of  diminution ;  that  is, 
by  what  he  termed  laws  of  decrement — the 
principles  of  decrease  being  as  unerring  as 
those  of  increase.  Xow,  I  beg  that  you  will 
particularly  notice  how  this  striking  discovery 
was  made.  Haiiy  was  essentially  a  poet ; 
and  his  great  delight  was  to  wander  in  the 
Jardin  du  Boi,  observing  nature,  not  as  a 
physical  philosopher,  but  as  a  poet.  Though 
his  understanding  was  strong,  his  imagination 
was  stronger ;  and  it  was  for  the  purpose  of 
tilling  his  mind  with  ideas  of  beauty  that  he 
directed  his  attention  first  to  the  vegetable 
kingdom,  with  its  graceful  forms  and  various 
hues.  His  poetic  temperament  luxuriating 
in  such  images  of  beauty,  his  mind  became 
saturated  with  ideas  of  symmetry,  and  Cuvier 
assures  us  that  it  was  in  consequence  of  those 
ideas  that  he  began  to  believe  that  the  ap- 
parently irregular  forms   of  native  crystals 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  189 

were  in  reality  regular ;  in  other  words,  that 
in  them,  too,  there  was  a  beauty — a  hidden 
beauty — though  the  senses  were  unable  to 
discern  it.  As  soon  as  this  idea  was  firmly 
implanted  in  his  mind,  at  least  half  the  dis- 
covery was  made ;  for  he  had  got  the  key 
to  it,  and  was  on  the  right  road,  which  others 
had  missed  because,  while  they  approached 
minerals  experimentally  on  the  side  of  the 
senses,  he  approached  them  speculatively  on 
the  side  of  the  idea.  This  is  not  a  mere  fanci- 
ful assertion  of  mine,  since  Haiiy  himself  tells 
us,  in  his  great  work  on  Mineralogy,  that  he 
took,  as  his  starting  point,  ideas  of  the  sym- 
metry of  form ;  and  that  from  those  ideas 
he  worked  down  deductively  to  his  subject. 
It  was  in  this  way,  and  of  course  after  a  long 
series  of  subsequent  labours,  that  he  read  the 
riddle  which  had  bafiied  his  able  but  unim- 
aginative predecessors.  And  there  are  two 
circumstances  worthy  of  note,  as  confirming 
what  I  have  said  respecting  the  real  history 
of  this  discovery.  The  first  is,  that  although 
Haiiy  is  universally  admitted  to  be  the  founder 
of  the  science,  his  means  of  observation  were  so 
rude  that  subsequent  crystallographers  declare 


190  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

that  hardly  any  of  his  measurements  of  angles 
are  correct ;  as  indeed  is  not  surprising,  in- 
asmuch as  the  goniometer  which  he  employed 
was  a  very  imperfect  instrument ;  and  that 
of  Wollaston,  which  acts  by  reflection,  was 
not  then  invented.  The  other  circumstance 
is,  that  the  little  mathematics  he  once  knew 
he  had  forgotten  amid  his  poetic  and  im- 
aginative pursuits ;  so  that,  in  working  out 
the  details  of  his  own  science,  he  was  obliged, 
like  a  schoolboy,  to  learn  the  elements  of  geom- 
etry before  he  could  prove  to  the  world  what 
he  had  already  proved  to  himself,  and  could 
bring  the  laws  of  the  science  of  form  to  bear 
upon  the  structure  of  the  mineral  kingdom. 

To  these  cases  of  the  application  of  what 
may  be  termed  the  ideal  method  to  the  in- 
organic world,  I  will  add  another  from  the 
organic  department  of  nature.  Those  among 
you  who  are  interested  in  botany,  are  aware 
that  the  highest  morphological  generalization 
we  possess  respecting  plants,  is  the  great  law 
of  metamorphosis,  according  to  which  the 
stamens,  pistils,  corollas,  bracts,  petals,  and 
so  forth,  of  every  plant,  are  simply  modified 
leaves.    It  is  now  known  that  these  various 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  191 


parts,  different  in  shape,  different  in  colour, 
and  different  in  function,  are  successive  stages 
of  the  leaf — epochs,  as  it  were,  of  its  history. 
The  question  naturally  arises,  who  made  this 
discovery  I  "Was  it  some  inductive  inves- 
tigator, who  had  spent  years  in  experiments 
and  minute  observations  of  plants,  and  who, 
with  indefatigable  industry,  had  collected 
them,  classified  them,  given  them  hard  names, 
dried  them,  laid  them  up  in  his  herbarium 
that  he  might  at  leisure  study  their  structure 
and  rise  to  their  laws  ?  Xot  so.  The  dis- 
covery was  made  by  Gothe,  the  greatest  poet 
Germany  has  produced,  and  one  of  the  greatest 
the  world  has  ever  seen.  And  he  made  it, 
not  in  spite  of  being  a  poet,  but  because  he 
was  a  poet.  It  was  his  brilliant  imagination, 
his  passion  for  beauty,  and  his  exquisite  con- 
ception of  form,  which  supplied  him  with 
ideas,  from  which,  reasoning  deductively,  he 
arrived  at  conclusions  by  descent,  not  by 
ascent.  He  stood  on  an  .eminence,  and  look- 
ing down  from  the  heights  generalized  the 
law.  Then  he  descended  into  the  plains,  and 
verified  the  idea.  "When  the  discovery  was 
announced  by  Gothe,  the  botanists  not  only 


192  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

rejected  it,  but  were  filled  with  wratli  at  the 
notion  of  a  poet  invading  their  territory. 
What !  a  man  who  made  verses  and  wrote 
plays,  a  mere  man  of  imagination,  a  poor 
creature  who  knew  nothing  of  facts,  who  had 
not  even  used  the  microscope,  who  had  made 
no  great  experiments  on  the  growth  of  plants  ; 
was  he  to  enter  the  sacred  precincts  of  physical 
science,  and  give  himself  out  as  a  philosopher  ? 
It  was  too  absurd.  But  Gothe,  who  had 
thrown  his  idea  upon  the  world,  could  afford 
to  wait  and  bide  his  time.  You  know  the 
result.  The  men  of  facts  at  length  succumbed 
before  the  man  of  ideas ;  the  philosophers, 
even  on  their  own  ground,  were  beaten  by 
the  poet ;  and  this  great  discovery  is  now 
received  and  eagerly  welcomed  by  those  very 
persons  who,  if  they  had  lived  fifty  years  ago, 
would  have  treated  it  with  scorn,  and  who 
even  now  still  go  on  in  their  old  routine,  tell- 
ing us,  in  defiance  of  the  history  of  our 
knowledge,  that  all  physical  discoveries  are 
made  by  the  Baconian  method,  and  that  any 
other  method  is  unworthy  the  attention  of 
sound  and  sensible  thinkers. 

One  more  instance,  and  I  have  done  with 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  193 

this  part  of  the  subject.  The  same  great  poet 
made  another  important  physical  discovery 
in  precisely  the  same  way.  Gothe,  strolling 
in  a  cemetery  near  Venice,  stumbled  on  a 
skull  which  was  lying  before  him.  Suddenly 
the  idea  flashed  across  his  mind  that  the  skull 
was  composed  of  vertebrae  ;  in  other  wTords, 
that  the  bony  covering  of  the  head  was  simply 
an  expansion  of  the  bony  covering  of  the  spine. 
This  luminous  idea  was  afterwards  adopted 
by  Oken  and  a  few  other  great  naturalists  in 
Germany  and  France,  but  it  was  not  received 
in  England  till  ten  years  ago,  when  Mr.  Owen 
took  it  up,  and  in  his  very  remarkable  work 
on  the  Homologies  of  the  Vertebrate  Skeleton, 
showed  its  meaning  and  purpose  as  contribu- 
ting towards  a  general  scheme  of  philosophic 
anatomy.  That  the  discovery  was  made  by 
Gothe  late  in  the  eighteenth  century  is  cer- 
tain, and  it  is  equally  certain  that  for  fifty 
years  afterwards  the  English  anatomists,  with 
all  their  tools  and  all  their  dissections,  ignored 
or  despised  that  very  discovery  which  they 
are  now  compelled  to  accept. 

You  will  particularly  observe  the  circum- 
stances under  which  this  discovery  was  made. 
9 


194:  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

It  was  not  made  by  some  great  surgeon,  dissec- 
tor, or  physician,  but  it  was  made  by  a  great 
poet,  and  amidst  scenes  most  likely  to  excite  a 
poetic  temperament.  It  was  made  in  Venice, 
that  land  so  calculated  to  fire  the  imagination 
of  a  poet ;  the  land  of  marvels,  the  land  of  poe- 
try and  romance,  the  land  of  painting  and  of 
song.  It  was  made,  too,  when  Gothe,  sur- 
rounded by  the  ashes  of  the  dead,  would  be 
naturally  impressed  with  those  feelings  of  sol- 
emn awe,  in  whose  presence  the  human  under- 
standing, rebuked  and  abashed,  becomes  weak 
and  helpless,  and  leaves  the  imagination  unfet- 
tered to  wander  in  that  ideal  world  which  is  its 
own  peculiar  abode,  and  from  which  it  derives 
its  highest  aspirations. 

It  has  often  seemed  to  me  that  there  is  a 
striking  similarity  between  this  event  and  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  episodes  in  the  greatest 
production  of  the  greatest  man  the  world  has 
ever  possessed  ;  I  mean  Shakspeare's  Hamlet. 
You  remember  that  wonderful  scene  in  the 
churchyard,  when  Hamlet  walks  in  among  the 
graves,  where  the  brutal  and  ignorant  clowns 
are  singing  and  jeering  and  jesting  over  the  re- 
mains of  the  dead.    You  remember  how  the 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


195 


fine  imagination  of  the  great  Danish  thinker  is 
stirred  by  the  spectacle,  albeit  he  knows  not 
yet  that  the  grave  which  is  being  dug  at  his 
feet  is  destined  to  contain  all  that  he  holds 
dear  upon  earth.  But  though  he  wists  not  of 
this,  he  is  moved  like  the  great  German  poet, 
and  he,  like  Gothe,  takes  up  a  skull,  and  his 
speculative  faculties  begin  to  work.  Images  of 
decay  crowd  on  his  mind  as  he  thinks  how  the 
mighty  are  fallen  and  have  passed  away.  In  a 
moment,  his  imagination  carries  him  back  two 
thousand  years,  and  he  almost  believes  that  the 
skull  he  holds  in  his  hand  is  indeed  the  skull  of 
Alexander,  and  in  his  mind's  eye  he  contrasts 
the  putrid  bone  with  what  it  once  contained, 
the  brain  of  the  scourge  and  conqueror  of  man- 
kind. Then  it  is  that  suddenly  he,  like  Gothe, 
passes  into  an  ideal  physical  world,  and  seizing 
the  great  doctrine  of  the  indestructibility  of 
matter,  that  doctrine  which  in  his  age  it  was 
difficult  to  grasp,  he  begins  to  show  how,  by  a 
long  series  of  successive  changes,  the  head  of 
Alexander  might  have  been  made  to  subserve 
the  most  ignoble  purposes;  the  substance  be- 
ing always  metamorphosed,  never  destroyed. 
'  Why,'  asks  Hamlet,  6  why  may  not  imagina- 


196  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

tion  trace  the  noble  dust  of  Alexander  ? '  when, 
just  as  he  is  about  to  pursue  this  train  of 
ideas,  he  is  stopped  by  one  of  those  men  of 
facts,  one  of  those  practical  and  prosaic  natures, 
who  are  always  ready  to  impede  the  flight  of 
genius.  By  his  side  stands  the  faithful,  the 
affectionate,  but  the  narrow-minded  Horatio, 
who,  looking  upon  all  this  as  the  dream  of  a 
distempered  fancy,  objects  that, — 4  'twere  to 
consider  too  curiously  to  consider  so.'  O  !  what 
a  picture  !  what  a  contrast  between  Hamlet  and 
Horatio ;  between  the  idea  and  the  sense  ;  be- 
tween the  imagination  and  the  understanding. 
4  'Twere  to  consider  too  curiously  to  consider 
so.'  Even  thus  was  Gothe  troubled  by  his  con- 
temporaries, and  thus  too  often  speculation  is 
stopped,  genius  is  chilled,  and  the  play  and 
swell  of  the  human  mind  repressed,  because 
ideas  are  made  subordinate  to  facts,  because 
the  external  is  preferred  to  the  internal,  and 
because  the  Horatios  of  action  discourage  the 
Hamlets  of  thought. 

Much  more  could  I  have  said  to  you  on  this 
subject,  and  gladly  would  I  have  enlarged  on 
so  fruitful  a  theme  as  the  philosophy  of  scien- 
tific method  ;  a  philosophy  too  much  neglected 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


107 


in  this  country,  but  of  .the  deepest  interest  to 
those  who  care  to  rise  above  the  little  instincts 
of  the  hour,  and  who  love  to  inquire  into  the 
origin  of  .our  knowledge,  and  into  the  nature 
of  the  conditions  under  which  that  knowledge 
exists.  But  I  fear  that  I  have  almost  exhausted 
your  patience  in  leading  you  into  paths  of 
thought  which,  not  being  familiar,  must  be 
somewhat  difficult,  and  I  can  hardly  hope 
that  I  have  succeeded  in  making  every  point 
perfectly  clear.  Still,  I  do  trust  that  there 
is  no  obscurity  as  to  the  general  results.  I 
trust  that  I  have  not  altogether  raised  my 
voice  in  vain  before  this  great  assembly,  and 
that  I  have  done  at  least  something  towards 
vindicating  the  use  in  physical  science  of  that 
deductive  method  which,  during  the  last  two 
centuries,  Englishmen  have  unwisely  despised. 
Not  that  I  deny  for  a  moment  the  immense 
value  of  the  opposite  or  inductive  method. 
Indeed,  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  standing 
in  this  theatre  to  do  so.  It  is  impossible  to 
forget  that  within  the  precincts  of  this  build- 
ing, great  secrets  have  been  extorted  from 
nature  by  induction  alone.  Under  the  shadow 
and  protection  of  this  noble  Institution,  men 


198  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

of  real  eminence,  men  of  power  and  thought 
have,  by  a  skilful  employment  of  that  method, 
made  considerable  additions  to  our  knowledge, 
have  earned  for  themselves  the  respect  of 
their  contemporaries,  and  well  deserve  the 
homage  of  posterity.  To  them  all  honour  is 
due  ;  and  I,  for  one,  would  say,  let  that  honour 
be  paid  freely,  ungrudgingly,  and  with  an 
open  and  bounteous  heart.  But  I  venture 
to  submit  that  all  discoveries  have  not  been 
made  by  this,  their  favourite  process.  I  sub- 
mit there  is  a  spiritual,  a  poetic,  and  for  aught 
we  know  a  spontaneous  and  uncaused  element 
in  the  human  mind,  which  ever  and  anon, 
suddenly  and  without  warning,  gives  us  a 
glimpse  and  a  forecast  of  the  future,  and  urges 
us  to  seize  truth  as  it  were  by  anticipation. 
In  attacking  the  fortress,  we  may  sometimes 
storm  the  citadel  without  stopping  to  sap  the 
outworks.  That  great  discoveries  have  been 
made  in  this  way,  the  history  of  our  knowledge 
decisively  proves.  And  if,  passing  from  what 
has  been  already  accomplished,  we  look  at 
what  remains  to  be  done,  we  shall  find  that 
the  necessity  of  some  such  plan  is  likely  to 
become  more  and  more  pressing.    The  field 


THE  PEOGEESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  199 


of  thought  is  rapidly  widening,  and  as  the 
horizon  recedes  on  every  side,  it  will  soon  be 
impossible  for  the  mere  logical  operations  of 
the  understanding  to  cover  the  whole  of  that 
enormous  and  outlying  domain.    Already  the 
division  of  labour  has  been  pushed   so  far 
that  we  are  in  imminent  danger  of  losing  in 
comprehensiveness  more  than  we  gain  in  ac- 
curacy.   In  our  pursuit  after  special  truths, 
we  run  no  small  risk  of  dwarfing  our  own 
minds.     By  concentrating  our  attention  we 
are  apt  to  narrow  our  conceptions,  and  to 
miss  those  commanding  views  "which  would 
be  attained  by  a  wider  though  perhaps  less 
minute  survey.    It  is  but  too  clear  that  some- 
thing of  this  sort  has  already  happened,  and 
that  serious  mischief  has  been  wrought.  For, 
look  at  the  language  and  sentiments  of  those 
who  profess  to  guide,  and  who  in  some  meas- 
ure do  guide,  public  opinion  in  the  scientific 
world.    According  to  their  verdict,  if  a  man 
does  something  specific   and  immediate,  if, 
for  instance,  he  discovers  a  new  acid  or  a  new 
salt,  great  admiration  is  excited,  and  his  praise 
is  loudly  celebrated.    But  when  a  man  like 
Go  the  puts  forth  some  vast  and  pregnant  idea 


200  THE  INFLEENCE  OF  WOMEN  OX 

which  is  destined  to  revolutionize  a  whole 
department  of  inquiry,  and  by  inaugurating 
a  new  train  of  thought  to  form  an  epoch  in 
the  history  of  the  human  mind  ;  if  it  happens, 
as  is  always  the  case,  that  certain  facts  con- 
tradict that  view,  then  the  so-called  scientific 
men  rise  up  in  arms  against  the  author  of  so 
daring  an  innovation  ;  a  storm  is  raised  about 
his  head,  he  is  denounced  as  a  dreamer,  an 
idle  visionary,  an  interloper  in  matters  which 
he  has  not  studied  with  proper  sobriety. 

Tims  it  is  that  great  minds  are  depressed 
in  order  that  little  minds  may  be  raised.  This 
false  standard  of  excellence  has  corrupted 
even  our  language  and  vitiated  the  ordinary 
forms  of  speech.  Among  us  a  theorist  is 
actually  a  term  of  reproach,  instead  of  being, 
as  it  ought  to  be,  a  term  of  honour ;  for  to 
theorize  is  the  highest  function  of  genius,  and 
the  greatest  philosophers  must  always  be  the 
greatest  theorists.  What  makes  all  this  the 
more  serious  is,  that  the  further  our  knowledge 
advances,  the  greater  will  be  the  need  of  rising 
to  transcendental  views  of  the  physical  world. 
To  the  magnificent  doctrine  of  the  indestruc- 
tibility of  matter,  we  are  now  adding  the  no 


THE  PE0GEESS  OF  ENOWLEDGE.  201 

less  magnificent  one  of  the  indestructibility 
of  force ;  and  we  are  beginning  to  perceive 
that,  according  to  the  ordinary  scientific  treat- 
ment, our  investigations  must  be  confined  to 
questions  of  metamorphosis  and  of  distribu- 
tion ;  that  the  study  of  causes  and  of  entities 
is  forbidden  to  us  ;  and  that  we  are  limited  to 
phenomena  through  which  and  above  which  we 
can  never  hope  to  pass.  But  unless  I  greatly  err, 
there  is  something  in  us  which  craves  for  more 
than  this.  Surely  we  shall  not  always  be 
satisfied,  even  in  physical  science,  with  the 
cheerless  prospect  of  never  reaching  beyond 
the  laws  of  co-existence  and  of  sequence  ? 
Surely  this  is  not  the  be-all  and  end-all  of  our 
knowledge.  And  yet,  according  to  the  strict 
canons  of  inductive  logic,  we  can  do  no  more. 
According  to  that  method,  this  is  the  verge 
and  confine  of  all.  Happily,  however,  induc- 
tion is  only  one  of  our  resources.  Induction 
is  indeed  a  mighty  weapon  laid  up  in  the 
armoury  of  the  human  mind,  and  by  its  aid 
great  deeds  have  been  accomplished  and  noble 
conquests  have  been  won.  But  in  that  armoury 
there  is  another  weapon,  I  will  not  say  of  a 
stronger  make,  but  certainly  of  a  keener  edge  ; 
9* 


202  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

and  if  that  weapon  had  been  oftener  used 
during  the  present  and  preceding  century, 
our  knowledge  would  be  far  more  advanced 
than  it  actually  is.  If  the  imagination  had 
been  more  cultivated,  if  there  had  been  a  closer 
union  between  the  spirit  of  poetry  and  the  spirit 
of  science,  natural  philosophy  would  have  made 
greater  progress,  because  natural  philosophers 
would  have  taken  a  higher  and  more  successful 
aim,  and  would  have  enlisted  on  their  side  a 
wider  range  of  human  sympathies. 

From  this  point  of  view  you  will  see  the 
incalculable  service  women  have  rendered  to 
the  progress  of  knowledge.  Great  and  ex- 
clusive as  is  our  passion  for  induction,  it 
would,  but  for  them,  have  been  greater  and 
more  exclusive  still.  Empirical  as  we  are, 
slaves  as  we  are  to  the  tyranny  of  facts,  our 
slavery  would,  but  for  them,  have  been  more 
complete  and  more  ignominious.  Their  turn 
of  thought,  their  habits  of  mind,  their  conver- 
sation, their  influence,  insensibly  extending 
over  the  whole  surface  of  society,  and  fre- 
quently penetrating  its  intimate  structure, 
have,  more  than  all  other  things  put  together, 
tended  to  raise  us  into  an  ideal  world,  lift  us 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  203 

from  the  dust  in  which  we  are  too  prone  to 
grovel,  and  develop  in  us  those  germs  of  im- 
agination which  even  the  most  sluggish  and 
apathetic  understandings  in  some  degree  pos- 
sess. The  striking  fact  that  most  men  of  genius 
have  had  remarkable  mothers,  and  that  they 
have  gained  from  their  mothers  far  more  than 
from  their  fathers ;  this  singular  and  unques- 
tionable fact  can,  I  think,  be  best  explained 
by  the  principles  which  I  have  laid  down. 
Some,  indeed,  will  tell  you  that  this  depends 
upon  laws  of  the  hereditary  transmission  of 
character  from  parent  to  child.  But  if  this 
be  the  case,  how  comes  it  that  while  every 
one  admits  that  remarkable  men  have  usually 
remarkable  mothers,  it  is  not  generally  ad- 
mitted that  remarkable  men  have  usually 
remarkable  fathers  ?  If  the  intellect  is  be- 
queathed on  one  side,  why  is  it  not  bequeathed 
on  the  other '(  For  my  part,  I  greatly  doubt 
whether  the  human  mind  is  handed  down  in 
this  way,  like  an  heir-loom,  from  one  gen- 
eration to  another.  I  rather  believe  that,  in 
regard  to  the  relation  between  men  of  genius 
and  their  mothers,  the  really  important  events 
occur  after  birth,  when  the  habits  of  thought 


204  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

peculiar  to  one  sex  act  upon  and  improve  the 
habits  of  thought  peculiar  to  the  other  sex. 
Unconsciously,  and  from  a  very  early  period, 
there  is  established  an  intimate  and  endearing 
connexion  between  the  deductive  mind  of  the 
mother  and  the  inductive  mind  of  her  son. 
The  understanding  of  the  boy,  softened  and  yet 
elevated  by  the  imagination  of  his  mother, 
is  saved  from  that  degeneracy  towards  which 
the  mere  understanding  always  inclines ;  it 
is  saved  from  being  too  cold,  too  matter-of-fact, 
too  prosaic,  and  the  different  j>roperties  and 
functions  of  the  mind  are  more  harmoniously 
developed  than  would  otherwise  be  practicable. 
Thus  it  is  that  by  the  mere  play  of  the  affec- 
tions the  finished  man  is  ripened  and  com- 
pleted. Thus  it  is  that  the  most  touching  and 
the  most  sacred  form  of  human  love,  the  purest, 
the  highest,  and  the  holiest  conrpact  of  which 
our  nature  is  capable,  becomes  an  engine  for 
the  advancement  of  knowledge  and  the  dis- 
covery of  truth.  In  after  life  other  relations 
often  arise  by  which  the  same  process  is  con- 
tinued. And  notwithstanding  a  few  excep- 
tions, we  do  undoubtedly  find  that  the  most 
truly  eminent  men  have  had  not  only  their 


THE  TROGEESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  205 

affections,  but  also  their  intellect,  greatly  in- 
fluenced by  women.  I  will  go  even  farther  ; 
and  I  will  venture  to  say  that  those  who  have 
not  undergone  that  influence  betray  a  some- 
thing incomplete  and  mutilated.  We  detect 
even  in  their  genius  a  certain  frigidity  of  tone  ; 
and  we  look  in  vain  for  that  burning  fire, 
that  gushing  and  spontaneous  nature  with 
which  our  ideas  of  genius  are  indissolubly  asso- 
ciated. Therefore  it  is  that  those  who  are  most 
anxious  that  the  boundaries  of  knowledge  should 
be  enlarged,  ought  to  be  most  eager  that  the 
influence  of  women  should  be  increased,  in 
order  that  every  resource  of  the  human  mind 
may  be  at  once  and  quickly  brought  into  play. 
For  you  may  rely  upon  it  that  the  time  is 
approaching  when  all  those  resources  will  be 
needed,  and  will  be  taxed  even  to  the  utmost. 
We  shall  soon  have  on  our  hands  work  far 
more  arduous  than  any  we  have  yet  accom- 
plished ;  and  we  shall  be  encountered  by  diffi- 
culties the  removal  of  which  will  require  every 
sort  of  help,  and  every  variety  of  power.  As 
yet  we  are  in  the  infancy  of  our  knowledge. 
What  we  have  done  is  but  a  speck  compared 
to  what  remains  to  be  done.    For  what  is 


206  THE  rXTIXENCE  OF  "WOMEN  ON 

there  that  we  really  know  ?  We  are  too  apt 
to  speak  as  if  we  had  penetrated  into  the  sanc- 
tuary of  truth  and  raised  the  veil  of  the  god- 
dess, when  in  fact  we  are  still  standing,  cow- 
ard-like, trembling  before  the  vestibule,  and 
not  daring  from  very  fear  to  cross  the  threshold 
of  the  temple.  The  highest  of  our  so-called 
laws  of  nature  are  as  yet  purely  empirical. 
You  are  startled  by  that  assertion ;  but  it  is 
literally  true.  Not  one  single  physical  discov- 
ery that  has  ever  been  made  has  been  connected 
with  the  laws  of  the  mind  that  made  it ;  and 
until  that  connexion  is  ascertained  our  knowl- 
edge has  no  sure  basis.  On  the  one  side  we 
have  mind  ;  on  the  other  side  we  have  matter. 
These  two  principles  are  so  interwoven,  they 
so  act  upon  and  perturb  each  other,  that  we 
shall  never  really  know  the  laws  of  one  unless 
we  also  know  the  laws  of  both.  Everything 
is  essential ;  everything  hangs  together,  and 
forms  part  of  one  single  scheme,  one  grand 
and  complex  plan,  one  gorgeous  drama  of 
which  the  universe  is  the  theatre.  They  who 
discourse  to  you  of  the  laws  of  nature  as  if 
those  laws  were  binding  on  nature,  or  as  if 
they  formed  a  part  of  nature,  deceive  both  you 


THE  PKOGKESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  207 

and  themselves.  The  laws  of  nature  have 
their  sole  seat,  origin,  and  function  in  the 
human  mind.  They  are  simply  the  conditions 
under  which  the  regularity  of  nature  is  recog- 
nised. They  explain  the  external  world,  but 
they  reside  in  the  internal.  As  yet  we  know 
scarcely  anything  of  the  laws  of  mind,  and 
therefore  we  know  scarely  anything  of  the 
laws  of  nature.  Let  us  not  be  led  away  by 
vain  and  high-sounding  words.  We  talk  of 
the  law  of  gravitation,  and  yet  we  know  not 
what  gravitation  is  ;  we  talk  of  the  conserva- 
tion of  force  and  distribution  of  forces,  and 
we  know  not  what  forces  are ;  we  talk  with 
complacent  ignorance  of  the  atomic  arrange- 
ments of  matter,  and  we  neither  know  what 
atoms  are  nor  what  matter  is  ;  we  do  not  even 
know  if  matter,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the 
word,  can  be  said  to  exist ;  we  have  as  yet 
only  broken  the  first  ground,  we  have  but 
touched  the  crust  and  surface  of  things.  Be- 
fore us  and  around  us  there  is  an  immense  and 
untrodden  field,  whose  limits  the  eye  vainly 
strives  to  define  ;  so  completely  are  they  lost 
in  the  dim  and  shadowy  outline  of  the  future. 
In  that  field,  which  we  and  our  posterity  have 


208  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  ON 

yet  to  traverse,  I  firmly  believe  that  the  im- 
agination will  effect  quite  as  much  as  the 
understanding.  Our  poetry  will  have  to  re- 
inforce our  logic,  and  we  must  feel  as  much,  as 
we  must  argue.  Let  us,  then,  hope  that  the 
imaginative  and  emotional  minds  of  one  sex 
will  continue  to  accelerate  the  great  progress, 
by  acting  upon  and  improving  the  colder  and 
harder  minds  of  the  other  sex.  By  this  coali- 
tion, by  this  union  of  different  faculties,  differ- 
ent tastes,  and  different  methods,  we  shall  go 
on  our  way  with  the  greater  ease.  A  vast 
and  splendid  career  lies  before  us,  which  it 
will  take  many  ages  to  complete.  We  see 
looming  in  the  distance  a  rich  and  goodly 
harvest,  into  which  perchance  some  of  us  may 
yet  live  to  thrust  our  sickle,  but  of  which, 
reap  what  we  may,  the  greatest  crop  of  all 
must  be  reserved  for  our  posterity.  So  far, 
however,  from  desponding,  we  ought  to  be 
sanguine.  "We  have  every  reason  to  believe 
that  when  the  human  mind  once  steadily  com- 
bines the  whole  of  its  powers,  it  will  be  more 
than  a  match  for  the  difficulties  presented  by 
the  external  world.  As  we  surpass  our  fathers, 
so  will  our  children  surpass  us.    We,  waging 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  209 

against  the  forces  of  nature  what  has  too  often 
been  a  precarious,  unsteady,  and  unskilled 
warfare,  have  never  yet  put  forth  the  whole 
of  our  strength,  and  have  never  united  all  our 
faculties  against  our  common  foe.  "We,  there- 
fore, have  been  often  worsted,  and  have  sus- 
tained many  and  grievous  reverses.  But  even 
so,  such  is  the  elasticity  of  the  human  mind, 
such  is  the  energy  of  that  immortal  and  god- 
like principle  which  lives  within  us,  that  we 
are  baffled  without  being  discouraged,  our 
very  defeats  quicken  our  resources,  and  we 
may  hope  that  our  descendants,  benefiting  by 
our  failure,  will  profit  by  our  example,  and 
that  for  them  is  reserved  that  last  and  decisive 
stage  of  the  great  conflict  between  Man  and 
Nature,  in  which,  advancing  from  success  to 
success,  fresh  trophies  will  be  constantly  won, 
every  struggle  will  issue  in  a  conquest,  and 
every  battle  end  in  a  victory. 


THE  END. 


